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[alyssiamarierenee]

im always so ready to read more and more of these two!! I know when the chapter starts I'll be done before i know it because i just read it so fast!! ugh your talent and the way you write so well is frustrating !!

The Eye of the Hurricane [18] - Boundaries

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Family dinner can get tense.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Charm, how long are you going to keep this silent treatment going?” Bucky’s voice reached you and you kept your focus on Alpine, holding the toy as she smacked it with her paw. “I mean you were the one who went and met up with your ex—”

“A friendly lunch!” you said, lifting your gaze from Alpine to see him leaning against the door of his changing room, his arms crossed. Your heart skipped a beat but you pursed your lips, painfully aware of the petulant expression on your face.

“Does he know it was friendly?”

“What do you want me to do Bucky, make him sign a paper to acknowledge it?” you asked back and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “Why did you two break up?”

You frowned. “What?”

“I mean I know how good you are at holding grudges, so being friends with an ex doesn’t sound like you, to be honest.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe he didn’t give me any reason to hold a grudge,” you said. “No wonder you wouldn’t get it.”

He gawked at you before running a hand over his face.

“I apologized like one thousand times—”

“You sent me a text couple of months later that said ‘you’re not still angry, are you’?” you corrected him. “Do you even know what an apology means?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh you do know,” you said. “I stand corrected.”

“No I mean, I’m sorry for that night.”

“Not accepted,” you deadpanned, scratching at Alpine’s head as she got bored of the feather and plopped down on the soft sheets. Bucky took a deep breath.

“Why did you break up?”

You lifted your head to roll your eyes at him. “Why is it important?”

“It’s important to me,” he said as he walked back into his dressing room, then came back with a pair of cufflinks. “Especially if he broke your heart.”

The idea of Bucky being angry at someone for breaking your heart was so absurd when he was the one who tore your heart out in the first place, but you chose not to comment on it.

“We just weren’t a good fit,” you said. “We were both idiots, to be honest.”

“You had him checked though?” Bucky asked, still busy with putting his cufflinks on and you shot him a glare.

“No Bucky, that was my first rodeo,” you deadpanned. “I just date civilians without making sure they can be trusted.”

 “And now?”

“I had him checked when he moved into the city and first made contact with me,” you said. “He still can be trusted.”

“That’s where we disagree, Charm.”

“Have you trusted anyone in your life, Bucky?” you asked, exasperated. “Except Steve and Sam, that is.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I trust you,” he pointed out, making your heart skip a beat and you stared at him for a couple of seconds, then forced out a scoff.

“Yet here you are, questioning me about that lunch and him in general?”

“That has more to do with him than you, you know that,” he replied and you leaned back on the pillows, Alpine jumping to curl up in your lap.

“Either way,” you muttered and stole a look at him as he got into his jacket. “We have dinner at 8 tonight with your mom and dad, don’t forget.”

Bucky threw his head back with a groan. “I still think we should skip that.”

“It’s the second time Winnifred asked,” you reminded him. “We’re going.”

“Fun,” he grumbled as he came closer to scratch at Alpine’s head, then pressed a kiss on top of your hair, making you bite back a smile. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

“Mm hm, try not to kill anyone until then.”

“I’ll try,” he said and walked out of the bedroom, making you heave a sigh as you looked down at Alpine who was purring.

“Dinner with George and Winnifred,” you muttered. “Yeah. Should be fun.”

                                                  *

It wasn’t that having dinner with George and Winnifred was something new for you. You had spent your entire childhood with Becca, not to mention your families had been close since you two were little, so tonight was supposed to be just relaxing.

In theory, that was.

Yet, a mere minute after stepping a foot into the house you realized that would not be the case. Bucky had texted you saying he would be a couple minutes late, and while the food was about to be ready, George was still in his office.

“You know how they get with business,” Winnifred told you as you sat next to Becca on the couch. “I’ll just check the kitchen, excuse me.”

“No problem,” you said as she walked away and you turned to Becca. “Do you know what’s happening?”

“Apparently my father and your father had a very long phone call,” Becca said without lifting her gaze from her phone, texting who you could only assume was Leila. “I have no idea why Bucky is late, but I know for a fact that daddy won’t like that.”

You bit inside your cheek, crossing your arms.

“Great,” you muttered. “I’m guessing Ian keeps dripping poison in my dad’s ear and now George is getting affected as well.”

Becca let out a small laugh.

“It’s not like daddy can do anything,” she murmured. “Bucky took over already.”

“No but he can make things quite difficult.”

“Bucky is used to that,” Becca said and you turned sideways to look at her better.

“So you didn’t bring Leila?” you asked as if trying to tease her and she scoffed.

“Are you kidding?” she asked. “I don’t want them to scare her off.”

“Give her some credit, will you?” you asked. “That car chase didn’t exactly scare her off.”

“If it came down to choosing between a car chase and my parents, I’d say the car chase is much safer,” she told you, making you bite down a grin.

“I get what you mean,” you said as Winnifred walked back into the living room again.

“The food is ready,” she said. “Come on, to the dining room.”

Becca threw her arm over your shoulder as you both followed her to the dining room and you were just about to take your seats when George walked into the room as well.

“Aw my dearest girls,” he said, first kissing Becca’s cheek and then yours. “I missed you two!”

“Hi George.”

“Hi daddy!” Becca gave him a bright smile and Winnifred motioned at the table.

“Sit down, sit down!” she said. “The chef spent the whole day working on this, I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will, I’m starving,” you said as you sat down and George looked around the room.

“And where’s Bucky?”

“He’s going to be a couple of minutes late,” you said. “He texted me just now.”

George stole a look at Winnifred, then shook his head.

“That boy needs to work on his time management skills,” he said, making you pull your brows together and Winnifred waved a hand in the air.

“He’s just busy with work,” she said. “It’s understandable.”

You shot them a smile.

“He’s just giving me the time to talk about him without him present,” you joked, making George chuckle.

“And how is married life, Y/N?”

“It’s wonderful,” you said airily. “I have nothing to complain, really. Which, you know how unlike me that sounds.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Winnifred said. “You and Bucky…You two were explosive around each other until very recently.”

“Thin line between love and hate,” Becca said with a grin before sipping her drink and Winnifred shook her head.

“Bucky never hated you Y/N, you know that.”

You made yourself busy with your food and took your fork to your mouth, nodding.

“I know,” you said after swallowing your bite. “We just had um…history, in a way.”

“And isn’t it wonderful how it worked out?” George said. “As I’ve told Bucky before—”

“Hi everyone,” Bucky’s voice cut him off as he walked into the room and came straight to kiss you on top of your head before taking his seat beside you. “Sorry I’m late, something came up.”

George heaved a sigh of displeasure as if he was trying to contain himself, and Bucky raised his brows at him but Winnifred cleared her throat.

“Oh not a problem sweetheart, we’ve just started.”

“Thanks,” Bucky said as a maid filled his glass and turned to Becca. “You didn’t bring Leila?”

“I asked the same thing,” you said with a small grin and Becca made a face.

“No thank you,” she said. “I’d rather it if you guys didn’t scare her off.”

“Well—”

“Perhaps it’s better that Becca is taking her time,” Winnifred said. “To make sure she can be trusted. She is a civilian after all.”

Bucky tried to hide his smirk as he sipped his drink.

“You haven’t even met the girl yet mom,” he reminded her. “It’s a bit early for you to not approve.”

“It’s not that I don’t approve!” Winnifred said. “It’s just…perhaps it’d be better if Becca were dating someone in business, that’s all I’m saying.”

You tried not to roll your eyes but Becca shot her a look, then turned to Bucky.

“See? Exactly why my girlfriend is not here.”

“Nah, I agree that it was the best idea for this time,” George said. “Considering tonight’s topic at least. Bucky, we need to talk.”

Bucky frowned slightly and you sat up straighter, your stomach doing an unpleasant flip.

“About what?” Bucky asked and George licked his lips.

“What is this I hear about you letting Y/N get involved in the business?” he asked. “Arthur called me, he’s worried out of his mind.”

“Nobody is ‘letting’ me do anything,” you said, trying your hardest to control the defensive tone in your voice. “If my father talked to you, you can just tell me, George.”

Bucky vibranium hand covered yours on the table and you felt a fluttering in your stomach before you turned your attention to George who shook his head.

“Y/N honey, I get that you want to be a part of it,” he said with the same condescending tone your father tended to adapt whenever he talked about you becoming a part of the business and Bucky’s jaw clenched as you narrowed your eyes. “But it’s not the best idea. Bucky agrees, I’m sure.”

“I don’t,” Bucky pointed out without missing a beat. “And watch your tone while you’re talking to my wife.”

The warmth spread over your cheeks. “It’s fine, Buck.”

“No it’s not.”

 Winnifred cleared her throat. “Perhaps we could talk about it later on.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to work,” Becca muttered, leaning back to sip her drink and George put his fork down.

“Bucky,” he said like a warning. “It’s wonderful that you two are happy and in love, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to my business—”

“I think you mean my business,” Bucky deadpanned and a silence fell upon the table, nervousness filling your system. You rolled your shoulders back, trying to decide whether you should step in or not, but George beat you to it.

“I didn’t put you to the top just so that you can ruin the business, Bucky.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped and Bucky let out a furious breath.

“You didn’t put me anywhere,” he said, his voice almost a growl. “I proved myself over and over.”

“Why don’t we all—”

“And where would you be without me?” George asked him and a furious breath left your lips.

“Alright, this is enough,” you said with a click of your tongue and stood up. “We’re leaving. Come on Buck.”

“Y/N—” Winnifred started as Bucky stood up, still holding your hand.

“See you later,” he told Becca and his mom, and you both walked out of the dining room and made your way through the foyer to step out of the house. He followed you to the car and you told the driver to drive you back to your place, then got in with Bucky.

Bucky didn’t speak a word all the way until you two got home, clearly lost in his own mind and you didn’t want to push him before he was ready. You picked up Alpine who rushed to greet you, then kissed her and put her down again. Bucky ran a hand over his face and flung himself on the couch in silence, biting inside his cheek while you filled two glasses of whiskey. You handed one to him and he took it, trying to offer you a small smile.

“Sorry about that,” he rasped out and you made a face.

“Your dad is an asshole, it has nothing to do with you,” you said. “It’s my therapist’s favorite topic to be honest with you, I could write a book about it.”

He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah well…”

“Speaking of, we’re going to the couple’s therapy,” you told him, making his head snap up.

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

“So that we can make sure this type of situation isn’t going to happen when you marry your second wife and have heirs,” you told him and he heaved a sigh.

“Y/N…” he muttered and rubbed at his eyes again. “Fuck, my head is killing me.”

You pursed your lips, then kicked at his shoe slightly before walking to the window.

“Can you come here?” you asked and he shot you a look, but did as you asked.

“What are we doing?” he asked and you turned to him.

“Tell me what you see.”

He fixed his gaze on the skyline and shrugged his shoulders.

“The city,” he said and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What you’re seeing is the part of the city under your rule. Not George’s, not anyone else’s. Yours.”

He huffed out a tense chuckle. “Mm hm, the part he gave to me.”

“The part you took rightfully,” you corrected him. “No one would let you have it if they thought you didn’t have what it takes, Bucky. We’re not letting Ian take over because he’s not the right choice, do you seriously believe you’d be where you were if it was just George handing you things?”

That made him think for a moment as he swallowed thickly, still keeping his gaze on the skyline and you bumped his shoulder with yours.

“You’re frustratingly good at what you do,” you told him. “Which is going to be a problem when I take over my dad’s business and eventually will have to do business with you, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, it’s fine.”

That managed to coax a chuckle out of him and he turned to look at you better, that fond light playing in his bright blue eyes.

“Thanks Charm.”

Your heart skipped a happy beat and you smiled back at him, then cleared your throat.

“No problem,” you said and walked away from him to grab your phone off the kitchen island.

 “I’m ordering pizza by the way,” you called out, your stomach still filled with butterflies for some reason. “We stormed out in style but I’m still hungry. Want some?”

[alyssiamarierenee]

situationship - pt thirty-two

Eddie Munson x petite!fem!Reader (sfw)

masterlist

Synopsis: Reeling from Eddie standing on your porch, you're forced to go through a whole slew of different emotions all at once. But which ones will you land on? Happy? Guilty? Excited? Heartbroken?

Warnings: slight angst, eddie's still a cheeky man, lots of emotions happening at once, still some mental exhaustion, eddie's also still a flirt, mention of family drama & arguing, sweet eddie makes an appearance too, yearning, slight flirting, slight teasing, slight sexual tension

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: sorry. this is a longer one. but it's worth it.

* = section break

What the fuck?

You blinked up at Eddie. Mind blank, the city still alive around you, the sound of plates hitting the counter as Paige and Francesca murmured inside…you just gawked. Confusion poured out of your ears like limp steam. You tilted your head and turned in your chair to face him.

“What the fuck?”

That at least earned a small chuckle from him before he plopped down in the chair Paige had previously occupied. He kicked his legs out, rested his head back, and looked over the landscape before him. The glass paneling on your balcony gave way to a killer view, and Eddie soaked it up. 

“Swanky apartment.” He tapped the cigarette between his fingers, but he didn’t light it. “Seriously, nicer than any place I’d ever been to–holy shit. Living the high life here. I get why you wanna rush back here.”

“Eddie…” you muttered, forehead starting to hurt as your brows pinched. 

“Let me just milk this for a sec?” he asked with a crooked grin. “You’re cute as hell when you’re surprised.”

The slight scrunching of your face must’ve said something else cause the moment your mouth parted to say his name again, he relented. The chair groaned as he shifted to face you, letting his smile linger as his head lolled and he stole a look up at the sky.

"I called last night while you were in the shower, and your friend answered." The cigarette spun like how you'd seen Francesca spin her pencils and pens before. Eddie's had a certain sloppy precision to it that made it fun to watch. "I was trying to, uh, apologize. Made some off-hand comment about wanting to do it face-to-face and now here I am. I can't take all the credit here.”

Your mouth stayed open as you continued to stare. It formed an o shape, and your brain felt a few steps short of calculating why he was there. If he’d wanted to apologize, he could’ve just called you later. It wasn’t like you were going to chastise him because you’d left so quickly. 

But he…

Why…?

“So worth it, though." He looked out at the city for a long moment. This was probably his first time here. The mini Corroded Coffin tour probably hadn't brought him far out, and there was a slight glimmer in his eyes as the twinkling lights of the city and the reflective moon bounced around inside his irises. "Plus, I learned that you totally have a crush on me, which is, wow, beyond flattering.”

Good lord. Your face finally stopped scrunching, and you looked at him, deadpan. His smile didn't fall when his eyes ended up on you once more. His cheeks were a little pink, though. 

“Listen, for how shit went down before the rehearsal dinner. I’m sorry.” Again, he spun the cigarette. His eyes fell across your pajamas as he spoke. “This…area…of shit is not where I shine the brightest. I don’t exactly come from a picture-perfect family.” He cocked a brow and softly cleared his throat. He kept playing with the cigarette. “Shit’s a hell of a lot more complicated. I’m sorry for talking down about it.”

When his eyes found yours again, his leg was bouncing. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that made you feel…melted. Butter left out in the sun, all the windows in a house open, the summer air pouring inside with every gentle breeze. 

He'd flown all the way out here to apologize again, and he was entirely, fully, unequivocally waiting for your response. Either you forgave him, or you didn't. And he wasn't hiding it well that he was scared you wouldn't. The chair beneath him creaked a little more as he pushed back, and he continued to spin the cigarette between his fingers. 

His rings caught the moonlight, sending it glinting across the silver metal. 

It felt a little mean pointing out the obvious. 

“Eddie,” you murmured, trying to hold back a bit of laughter. “You already apologized to me this morning.”

“Didn’t count,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Wayne taught me better, c’mon. Gotta apologize to my girl’s face after being such a dickhead.”

You sucked in your cheeks and kept your gaze leveled on him. His girl? 

“What?” He tapped the end of the unlit cigarette on the armrest as if he was putting out a lit one. “You’re the one with the crush on me. I’m just reciprocating here. Oh, shit. Hold on. Wait a sec. One sec.”

You just kind of gawked at him as he hopped up. The glass door slid open, and there was a bit of commotion inside. A bit of rustling. Some snickering that was all too familiar sounding. And you felt your heart pound the entire time from when Eddie disappeared and then suddenly reappeared. Looking fairly smug and proud of himself, he rocked on his feet before pulling his hand out from behind his back, and a slightly rumpled red rose appeared. 

You just closed your eyes. Battling the smile came with an extra layer of difficulty as laughter joined it. He had to be fucking with you. This whole thing had to be some ridiculous, elaborate scheme. Cause–reciprocating. Lord. It took far too long for that word to process in your head. 

He reciprocated.

“Eddie,” you murmured, slowly opening your eyes and reaching up to take the stem of the rose. “I’m so confused.”

“Shit, you’re the one with the college degree. Gotta keep up.” 

He did two things rather clumsily, but you had laughter bubble with you as he hauled you to your feet. The world spun as he spun you, bringing you back around to have your back to his chest for a moment. Then the world moved again, the chair creaked, and there was the familiar feeling of Eddie beneath you. An arm wrapped around your waist as you fell onto his lap; his other hand came up and held up yours, head tilting as he lifted the floppy flower. 

“You think I do this shit just to get my dick wet for a few weeks?” 

“But…” You turned to really look at him, and there he was, waiting with a cheeky, expectant look on his face. A smile that looked like he had whatever answer he needed locked and loaded. “I mean…I’m…so lost.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you a familiar smile that made something flutter far lower than just your belly. “Just let me spoil you?”

You took a deep, unsteady breath. The ground felt rocky beneath you. Very rocky. But he was here. He flew out to see you. To do all of this. The least you could do was enjoy however long he had there. Whatever else was going on inside his head, you could poke and prod at it later. When you finally wrapped your head around the fact that he was seriously there. And that you owed Francesca and Paige a massive favor for this. The harder questions could come a little later.

“Okay,” you murmured. “Fine.” 

“Great.” He beamed and pressed a kiss to your cheek. Lord. That butter was fully melted. Just the little touch and you were a goner. You fully melted against him, closing your eyes for the brief moment of contact. The slight scrape of some stubble was a welcomed feeling, and you sighed a little too loudly. It came out happily. Noticeably. "I do have some other shit to share, though."

His look was a little wry when you pulled back. 

“...okay?”

“I may have gone to Bri’s wedding.”

A cold bucket of ice water draped over you. 

He turned that wry expression into a wry smile.

“Some stuff may have happened.”

“Eddie, what kind of stuff?” you said with a frantic and strained voice.

“Oh, it’s a whole fucking thing.” He tapped your waist. “Pizza first? It’ll pair better with food. And maybe some alcohol.”

Jesus Christ. That wasn't helping the frozen blanket keeping you hostage. Not even the personal heater Eddie had seemed to become beneath you helped. Food? Part of you wasn't sure you'd keep down the small sandwich you'd had for lunch. Your stomach churned, but behind you, you heard Eddie's grumble. 

“Talk while we eat,” you said with narrowed eyes. 

“Deal. Inside or outside?”

“Inside.” 

You reluctantly slid off of his lap. Your legs were…not fully steady. Eddie had his hands on your waist the second he stood. Either he could tell, or he wanted an excuse to touch you. You were fine with both answers.

You moved toward the glass door and nodded nervously as Paige and Francesca. 

“Easier to not have to relay all the information back to them. They’re gonna know anyway.” 

Eddie nodded and followed you inside, one hand still lightly touching your waist. 

Paige and Francesca beamed with anticipation as you and Eddie found seats on the couch. You didn't mean to sit so close to Eddie, but he clearly intended to have a part of him touching you. Like he'd missed how you'd sit beside each other on his couch, nudging each other as you argued over who was winning at Mario Kart. Or maybe you were just projecting. 

“M’kay,” he said after swallowing a bite of pepperoni pizza. “Do we want the fun, detailed version or the tl;dr version?” 

Without hesitation, Paige and Francesca both responded with detailed. 

Eddie enjoyed their answer far too much. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, throwing an arm around you in the process. It was a welcomed warmth over the cold cape that lingered over your shoulder, and it almost permeated it. The mischievous look he gave you helped with that, though. 

Oh. He was going to ham it up, wasn’t he?

Yeah. 

Yeah, he definitely was.

*

Okay. You understood it. It took about two sentences into the recount for you to really see it, but it was absurdly unfair how easily he could switch into storytelling mode. It was the Dungeon Master in him–that was obvious with how he weaved everything together. He’d definitely thought about how to tell the story to you during the plane ride, and it came out much more like a tale than him spilling your family’s drama.

But, hey, it made it easier to hear. And Paige and Francesca were fully hooked.

Apparently, the day had started off without a hitch–from what he’d gathered. Some of his information was taken from Jason, Zach, Wayne, and even Marissa and Geroge. The rest he’d kind of witness himself, beer in hand, standing on the sidelines beside his uncle. 

So, the ceremony itself…Marissa didn’t stand with the bridesmaids. Neither did Jason. Zach did, though. Jason had stepped down from the groomsmen days ago, apparently. After the bachelor party incident–he’d told Dylan he wasn’t interested in participating anymore. Dylan apparently never told Bri. She found out when Marissa had voiced that since Jason had stepped down, she figured she would as well to keep an even number for the bride and groom. 

Bri…was unaware of Jason’s stepping down.

But that wasn’t the breaking point.

It was a beautiful ceremony besides that. Your dad walked Bri down the aisle. There was some crying and some cheering. No malfunctions with anything. No dropped rings or messed up vows. The rustic decorations all looked picture-perfect, and the swapped chairs were welcomed with the extra cushioning. 

After the outside ceremony, they moved indoors to where the food was. Catering was great–it came from an Italian joint that came in from the city. Rolls, roasted chicken, fettuccine, a bit of a sad-looking salad that reminded him of you–he earned an elbow nudge from that. A whole spread of food options that turned the joint into a bit of splattered sauce, but hey–at least it was white, so Bri's dress wasn't ruined. 

Then…then things started to get a little shifty. Cause apparently, it was a little more noticeable that you weren’t there and Zach was. Between your extended family members that you hadn’t even realized had been invited, it was…a little obvious. It wasn’t like your parents wrote a weekly newsletter talking about your family drama like some personal version of Lady Whistledown from Bridgerton. 

So, there came some tension. Some whispers. The atmosphere was still pretty relaxed, but it was definitely getting noticeable. Especially since it was clear that Jason and Marissa were avoiding your parents and your sister. They only showed up for pictures, and that was it. Then they were in their duo eating, dancing, sharing a drink or two. 

“They did grace me with some attention,” Eddie said, dramatically basking in the recollection. “I felt so honored not to be punched in the face by your brother.”

Apparently, Jason gave him a bit more information about why you’d made the grand announcement that you were sleeping with Zach. Not Eddie’s favorite moment, as he made real clear. Paige and Francesca exchanged a look that made your cheeks burn. Still, you sank a little deeper against him and muttered an apology. 

Turned out, though, Eddie wasn’t the only one Jason and Marissa told.

Wayne found out, too, since he was with Eddie.

And who was behind the two of them looking for Wayne to talk to him about what he'd heard about you and Eddie? Technically, the only reason he was there doing that was cause your mom spilled the beans to cover for your lie with Zach, so if you hadn't done that, George wouldn't have overheard. And what else could Jason do when George found out he was taking his baby girl away from him?

He went and told your parents.

News was already out. George was going to spill those beans next. 

"The whole room went silent. You could hear a fucking pen drop as Jason fucking tracked down your parents. Except he was walking right into the lion's den. Cause they weren't alone. He wasn't either, mind you; Marissa was right there with George following behind her." Eddie leaned forward. "But where did Jason drop the news? At the table with Bri and Dylan."

Oh.

The silence apparently continued. Who knew so many people were invested in the drama unfolding? 

Jason wasn't tactful in how he spilled the news. Since George knew and your mom knew, he just waltzed up to the side of the table and spouted that your mom won–he wasn't able to wait to find the right time to tell them, so he was ripping the bandaid off. 

“I’m leaving. After Marissa graduates, we’ve got a place lined up in the city. She’s gotta damn good job and I’ve got a damn good one lined up for me, too. I’ve been training Zach on all the shit I do to cover for whatever loss you get when I go, but I’m going. Sorry if this comes as a disappointment, but Marissa and I are trying to start a family and branch out on our own.” 

He then turned to Bri and Dylan.

Eddie was a little stunned at that point, so he fully missed memorizing what Jason had said next. It was a concoction of stuff spouted about Jason being sorry about leaving, sorry about now being the time and place, but he was pushed into a corner and he’d been pushed into a corner long enough. 

He also apparently filled them–and your dad–in on the fact that’s what you and Zach were covering with your shit from last night. Cause you were trying to prevent this very thing from unfolding.

“But, hey, Bri. Can’t expect you to know what a good sister looks like when you don’t know how to act like one, so.” 

Jason then apparently took your mom’s glass of champagne, downed it, took Marissa by the hand, and left before he could get another black eye from George or a lecture of disapproval from your very betrayed-looking father. 

“I did share a look with your mom before Wayne and I left.” Eddie cleared his throat. “Call me a fucking coward, but I was not about to approach your dad and confirm what your mom already knew. My face is part of my money maker, so I kinda need to keep that in check.” 

Eddie checked his watch.

“That was also a few hours ago, so no fucking clue what happened after that–sorry. I had a real important flight to catch after that.” He let out a long breath and nodded his head. “And here we fucking are, where I’m pretty sure your mom’s still equally as pissed at me as she is at your brother. But neither she nor your father has taken my head off yet, so…fair trade for now.”

Holy shit. 

You stared at the collection of romance novels you kept out on some nearby shelves. They basked in the moonlight sneaking through your balcony door and flashed under the muted television. Francesca and Paige were in full reaction mode, repeating different sections. Asked for clarification, asked for extra details. Not maliciously–they were both caught up on most of the lore they needed to know, so hearing this was like gossiping about the finale in a TV show. 

Your heart pounded rapidly as you blinked at the wrinkled spines of the paperback books. Eddie's warmth continued to sneak through the frozen exterior, trying to refreeze with every melting drop. It was welcomed–very, wonderfully, frantically welcomed. Your leg began to bounce as you vividly imagined the look of betrayal on your parents' faces. Probably worse than when you'd accepted your college acceptance letter. Probably worse than when you moved out. 

You were obvious a long time before then. Jason was…Jason. He was supposed to inherit your dad's position and take over the whole company. He was primed for it perfectly and was even taught the basics as a kid. Would sit on your mom and dad's laps as they did desk work, and bam. Another lesson while he tried to figure out how to hold the baby book rightside up.

Eddie was probably joking about your mom still being pissed, but you would’ve bet money that this–the two of you–was the last thing on her mind. You weren't in Hawkins anymore, anyway. You were safely away from such a horrendous influence. 

On your lap, you slowly turned your phone over.

“That explains the radio silence,” you murmured. 

Not a single call or text from anyone. You’d been so wrapped up in trying not to think about it all, you hadn’t even realized. Paige had kept your phone on silent, facedown, out of sight, and out of mind. As best as she could, at least. But the dots that'd been hidden were now connecting.

Everyone was irate.

Beyond–probably. And all at Jason and Marissa.

Marissa was the woman stealing Jason away from Hawkins, and Jason was the bad influence taking Marissa away from her dad.

“Hey.” Paige nudged your foot with hers. “It happened. Nothing to do now but move forward, right?”

You nodded slowly. Yet it didn’t feel satisfying. Just cause everything was out in the open didn’t suddenly mean everything was going to be fixed perfectly. For fuck’s sake, Bri and Dylan had a honeymoon to go on after all of that happened at their wedding. What kind of fucked up omen was that?

“It’ll be okay.” Paige tapped your foot again. “Everyone will figure their stuff out.”

“Yeah,” you said cause it felt like the easiest option. “Hopefully. Once things settle down. Maybe.”

“Well,” Francesca said, slapping her hands on her knees and slowly rising from the couch. “Paige, you have a final interview to prep for, don’t you? And I have to be up for work early tomorrow. We should probably head out.”

There was a conglomeration of different emotions balling up inside you even at that moment. Yet when Francesca and Paige fake yawned and stood, stretching dramatically and going about grabbing their things, you had to fight an embarrassed smile. 

“Subtle,” you shot at them as they took some leftover pizza. Paige squeezed your hand before they went toward your front door. 

You mouthed two words at her. 

Thank you.

She just gave you a little smile back. 

“Nice to put a face to a well-discussed name,” she mused on her way out, the steamed dress flipped over her shoulder.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. 

“Oh my god, you talked about me to them? What?" His nose brushed your cheek, and there was the faintest kiss left in its wake. Soft and sweet. That side of him. The same side that made him sit back and tap your shoulder, arm still around it. “I did take a peek at hotels around here–”

“Do you really think you’re not sleeping here when you flew out to surprise me?” You peered back at him over your shoulder, cheeks heating when he found you with that crooked grin. 

“I don’t want you to think I’m some horndog piece of shit who did all of that just to get in your bed.” He pushed up a little bit and made a show of peering through your cracked bedroom door. “Although, it does look comfortable as all hell.” 

“Why did you fly out?” A question you really hated that you needed clarification on. But you knew better. There had to be something else besides just…wanting to see you. Wanting to apologize in person. 

“Which answer do you want?” he asked, eyes falling down to look at nothing on your lap. Just for a moment. Then he flicked his attention back up. “The long or the short?”

You weren’t entirely sure if that bode well for you or not. 

“Medium?” you asked a little playfully.

It made him smile, so that was a win.

"Wayne nearly took my head himself when he was filled in on some of the extra details." Eddie cleared his throat. "We don't just bust out that world fuckin' famous lasagna for just anyone."

“Oh, so Wayne made you do it,” you teased. Even if that was the full truth, it was kind of endearing. Unless it was malicious on Wayne’s behalf, but he hardly had a bone like that in his body. With the exception of compliance. He was rather good at malicious compliance when working with your dad. 

“Wayne basically smacked me upside the head like I was an idiot teenager again.” Eddie snorted and held up his hand. You watched the light hit the scratches in his rings as he moved his hand up in front of him. “Went from getting pissy at work to getting pissy on stage, but he and the guys–uh, Corroded Coffin–pushed me toward the fuckin’ obvious. Realizing I’d been a total shithead.”

“It’s different points of view–”

“Ah, hey. Hey.” Eddie waved his hand in front of you and mimed zipping your lips. “We’ve met our middle ground on that–let me finish.”

You nodded, a smile testing the strength of that imaginary zipper.

“I was going to talk to you at the rehearsal dinner. Apologize face-to-face, talk shit out–like the adult Wayne expects me to be. Then…well, there went everything else. I was already a little pissy watching you dance with Casanova, but then everything kinda clicked when it, you know, exploded.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his feet, kicking them out a smidge as he got more comfortable on your couch. “I…uh…might’ve gone to find you after, but when you weren't outside, I figured it was for the best. Whatever. Let the woman go. So I went home–blah, blah, blah–gotta call later asking if you were with me. You know the rest from there. Until I just…"

He held up his other hand again. Spun it a few times in a small wave, mouth forming a harsh line. His brows pinched as the motioning continued, and you'd started to pick at your nails. A habit you'd long since fought against as a kid. You folded your hands together on your lap instead.

“Listen, I know I look like this cool, hard, badass guy on the outside–”

“–Sure. Definitely.”

He gave you a pointed look. A small laugh bubbled out of you.

“Point is–I knew last night hadn’t sat well with you, ‘kay? I just wanted to make sure you were fuckin’ really okay. Tried to call, and your friend Paige answered.” He pursed his lips. “Took about half a second to be convinced to get my ass out here. Said my peace to her, she had the ticket information for me a few minutes later. So, technically, she gets most of the credit for me being here. And Francesca–is that her name? She picked me up from the airport.” 

He pointed in the general direction of where the food sat and where your front door had been shut minutes earlier. 

“Which, by the way, they’re sickeningly sweet, too. Jesus Christ. I’d say you attract them, but you’ve got me sitting next to you, wrapped around your finger.”

“You are not wrapped around my finger,” you mused in disbelief. 

He shrugged. “Cool. Works way more in my favor if you think I’m not. But–whole long-winded point of this comes down to just really needing to see you.”

That warm, bubbly feeling was back again. He either had an expert way of just making it boil over, or it was just him. Neither answer wasn't one you really wanted to lend credit to when the obvious hung in the distance. Not avoidable, but you could let yourself bask in that momentary glee. Just for a little longer.

“I already told you that you were staying here,” you murmured, sinking a little further into him. God. He was just comforting. An analysis you had no interest in diving into as you felt the familiar curves of his body against yours. You leaned your head back and fought off the inevitable trying to ruin the warmth in your stomach. “You don’t have to pull out the flattery.”

"Oh, great," Eddie mused, his fingers starting to trail along your arm. Your short-sleeved shirt gave way to bare skin for him to touch. Goosebumps rose quickly. "Then I can say it's also maybe because I definitely didn’t want to be within punching distance with your dad inevitably finds out it wasn’t Zach piping his daughter.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks, turning to give him a pointed look. His grin was there–wide and cheeky–and a small laugh even snuck out to join the little space between you. The faintest hint of pink tinged his cheeks, and the glint his eyes just felt…nice. Familiar–very familiar–and it flicked the warmth a little hotter inside your belly. 

Also made the cold try to worsen.

Fuck it. Basking in the moment and clinging to what it brought you was pointless when the obvious loomed. Might as well rip the bandaid off. Better now than in the morning. You were emotionally vulnerable now, and you'd be even more emotionally vulnerable come morning when your defenses were down, and morning brain could slip into a different kind of brain when Eddie was in bed beside you. 

“Can I ask another question?” you asked softly. 

“Give it to me.”

His hand continued to move along your arm, slow drags of his fingers that almost made your brain short out. It was hard to pretend like it wasn’t having that distinct effect on you. 

“So, you flew all the way out here to see me–and avoid my dad–”

“I’m a coward, I know,” he teased.

“–but is there another end goal here?” You tried not to wince at yourself. Bad wording. Horrible wording. You shook your head. “I mean–er. Um. Damn it. We’d never…it was always implied that what we were doing was something…momentary.”

Did you still want momentary with him? You were states away–how did it not remain momentary? Did Eddie even want more?

“Sorry. I just…my brain’s a little scrambled. I guess I’m just trying to figure out if…” You looked up at the ceiling and blew out a long breath. Long distance wasn’t something you’d ever even fathomed to try before. You hadn’t even kept in touch with your close friends back home. Robin was just a plain miracle in wanting to continue talking to you. How would it work with Eddie on the other end? “I’m not good at these things. I’m sorry.”

Both hands found a place over your face. A long, embarrassed groan pressed against them. You felt the vibrations go down your arms, past your elbows, and settle right in your chest. On your back, too. Lord, no. Eddie was laughing. Or trying not to, at least.

"Stop it," you teased, leaning forward and putting your elbows on your knees. You groaned again. "You flew all the way out here, so it feels applicable to ask. And I know you're not a one-person kinda guy, and you have all the band stuff going on and D&D and I've had a total of one relationship before our situationship…" Another groan. "Just…help me out here?"

There was an unfortunately long pause after you finished. The sound of poorly stifled laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, even if you knew that the odds were in your favor about him laughing at the situation. Not you. The absurdity of it. Your awkwardness. He'd always enjoyed it before; surely, it was just as amusing now. 

Except he wasn’t answering the question. 

So the odds were, on that front, was that this was your last warm moment with him. Cause he had to go back to Hawkins. He had more band projects to work on. Had more dedicated fans that would be a hell of a lot more fun to mess around with on any tours than you back here. So, the end goal? It wasn't feasible. And you were putting him in the position to make that decision. 

Even when you already knew the answer.

"Damn, I tongue-fuck you in the back of my van, and that's all you remember from that night?" The back of Eddie's fingers ran along your spine; a warm shiver spread across it. "Maybe I really do give fantastic dick. Jesus Christ.”

With burning cheeks and the sheer will to lower your hands, you barely managed to turn and give him a pointed look. You kept the bottom half of your face covered to keep part of your expression obscured. You weren’t even sure what face you were making, but Eddie’s crooked grin stayed.

You didn’t even need to say anything for him to continue.

"'Kay, listen. You're, like, not wrong. I’m not gonna say which you’re right about cause I can already see it spinning around up there.” He made a circular motion with his fingers up at your head. “But, and hear me out, give a guy a little more credit. Like just a little? Cause…and shit, this is a little new for me too, but I sure as hell am hard-pressed to let go of an absolute catch who's willing to even give me the time of day."

He pursed his lips and tapped his hand against your back. Quick taps, hand falling down and finding itself at your side. His fingers placed that repetitive motion at your waist.

“Both of your parents are already going to know everything eventually, might as well go all the way in. Fuck it.” He cleared his throat. “And Wayne fucking adores you…so…”

Your heart thundered in your chest. Just absolutely threw itself at you as you stared back at him. There was no way in hell he was serious. Eddie Munson wasn’t a guy who wanted to settle down–not like this. Although…was it really settling when you two were states apart and were, what, going to rely on video calls and messaging to get through the relationship? Was he okay with that? He hadn’t taken his hands off you since he’d arrived. 

"You're a long-distance person?" you asked softly. The obvious strain in your voice made your heart pound faster. Brought Eddie's eyes to yours and made his brow cock into his bangs. 

“I’m a willing man, baby.” He wrapped his fingers around your shirt and tugged. “Are you?”

You found yourself staring at his shirt. Everything felt floaty and sparkly as you blinked and continued to blink. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, nor could you tell exactly how long it lasted no matter how long you sat there. 

Airfare between you and him wasn't unaffordable. You could, realistically, with your salary, fly back once a week, and it wouldn't be that big of an issue. And it wasn't like you were flying back to see your parents–you'd stay with him. You could telecommute, too, if you wanted to stay longer. You'd get to actually see Robin more, and you could bring Paige and Francesca out to see Hawkins, too, sometimes. 

And if things got better…maybe you’d actually be able to go back to your parents without carrying this weight around your shoulders.

It sounded like Eddie still had his job with your parents so far. Maybe it…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? Maybe it’d even bridge a gap?

“You know, um,” you started, daring to meet his gaze, “Francesca has a few connections at the bars she used to work at. They’ve done a bunch of different live music shows. All genres.” Eddie’s mouth quirked into a smile he was clearly trying to keep to himself. “I could inquire with her about potential extended inquiries for any open slots at the places. They pay well if the crowds are big.”

“Oh, yeah?” He had a toothy grin that he couldn’t stave off any longer. 

You nodded.

“That’s a hell of a lot of words to just say yes,” he mused.

You felt your cheeks heat warmer. Far warmer. You turned to face your TV.

“I know.” 

"Hey." He tugged on your shirt again, and you only half turned to face him. He tugged you a little more, and that one brought you back against him. An easy movement to follow as soon as you'd started it. You faced him a little more, shoulder sitting beneath his arm as it wrapped around you. Your cheeks felt on fire as he gave you a sly, glittering look the moment you came against him. 

Whatever he’d intended to tack on went unsaid. Didn’t need to be.

Not when he lifted a hand to your cheek. A warm, rough, sliding touch as he cupped the back of your head. Just a little tug to test, and you rode with it. Your stomach fluttered uncontrollably like it was the first time anyone had ever touched you like that. But it was impossible to stop it as your eyes fluttered shut, and you felt that familiar touch and taste of his mouth against yours.

A slow kiss–far from chaste. Chaste was an impossibility with Eddie. But slow. It was so, so slow. Like he needed you to know this was this. Nothing more. He wasn't trying to haul you off to your bed or bring you down to your back on your couch. A desperation in the twitch of his fingers against your scalp and a soft groan as your mouths parted and his tongue teased yours. A plea unsaid as you twisted his shirt between your fists and leaned closer, matching the intensity at the ginger speed. 

Clung to each other like the other was going to drown. 

Jesus. You’d missed him.

You weren't the only one who fought to catch their breath when the kiss broke. Eddie's forehead nudged yours, his nose, too, as he huffed. A soft clearing of his throat followed, and he tilted his head. A kiss found your cheek, then a softer one on your jaw. You accidentally, selfishly, and subconsciously tilted your head back. The yearning to feel his mouth on your neck was unbearable. It skated down your stomach and seated itself where your thighs pressed together.

You got a fleeting touch right below your ear that sent a tingle directly between your legs before he stopped. His hand remained on your head as he pressed his forehead against the side, laughing dryly and damn near growling. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” he mumbled. “I’m trying to not be a dickhead, here. Trying to prove I’m just a little more than who everyone else thinks I am.”

Still clinging to him, hands now on his shoulders, you felt…cheeky. You should’ve been nice–should’ve just nodded. But after the slew of emotions thrown your way for the last twenty-four hours…for the last few weeks, you just wanted to have this. To give yourself this. You weren’t going to push it–Eddie wanted the opposite, and you damn well weren’t going to do otherwise.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t tease him just a little bit, right?

“So we should take separate showers then?” you asked breathlessly. 

His hand twitched again. He tensed. Sighed. Nuzzled the side of your head a little more, and not in a nice, sweet way. 

“I fucking hate you,” he muttered. 

"You wanna go first, then? Feel like I should extend that given the obvious and…" You made a point of fixing his jacket and flattening it out over his shoulders and upper chest. "You know, give you a chance to…cool down. The water gets pretty cold here."

He took a slow breath, hand skating down and gliding over your neck. Jesus. You could’ve folded then and there. The lazy drag across the burning skin down to almost go in that familiar path to your chest…he stopped himself just short of touching you beyond your shoulder and pulled back. Wide pupil found you, and the heat behind them was a mix of frustration, desperation, and lust. A dash of stubborn determination, too.

“Yeah,” he grunted, eyes falling down to your lap in the process. You stopped pressing your knees together when his attention landed on just that. “I’m gonna need that.”

You nodded and took his hand, legs weak as you stood. Your pulse ticked higher as you led him toward your bathroom, eyeing his patched-up duffle sitting by the end of your bed. You had to ignore how your underwear plastered itself to you with every step. 

“Here,” you said, nudging the door open. “Help yourself.”

And through pure self-restraint and determination, as Eddie stepped inside, you managed not to follow him in there. Even when his hand lingered in yours for just a few extra moments, and he looked like he wanted to pull you in after him badly. 

He gave you a quick wink as he started to shut the door, and you fell back onto the edge of your bed seconds later, squeezing your pajamas into your fists, listening to the water run and his jewelry clink on the counter.

Eddie was there.

Eddie was there.

Holy fuck.

[alyssiamarierenee]

i know who you are | 7. the week

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Joel is on a mission to win you back. You struggle with your feelings and visit an old friend for some perspective.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia, slow burn, physical violence, wounds/blood/injuries/gore, vague reference to suicide (Joel remembering his incident after Sarah), alcohol consumption, non-descriptive smutty memory, mentions of murder (adults and children), mentions of pregnancy (not reader)

WC: 7.7K

A/N: I took some liberties with the background of the Fireflies, it's not exactly canon.

Series Masterlist

Somewhere in Northern California

It took two days.

Two full days of freezing temperatures and frigid wind as he traversed up and down mountains, through snow covered forests with little to no shelter, but he finally made it. Right before nightfall, he approached the edge of the town you grew up in. The town your parents still lived in ten years ago. The town that holds a history of you and everything you hold dear.

It was too dark and he was too tired to enter the town and go any further, but fortune smiled upon him for the first time since he left Jackson when he spotted a dilapidated woodshed tucked into the forest. It was small, no bigger than a bedroom, but it would do. It would be the first time in two days he would get to sleep with a roof over his head, and he desperately needed it.

He grossly overestimated his ability to survive out in the wild. He did it before, of course, but life in Jackson made him soft. Made him complacent. Made him weak.

Time took its toll on his body. His age was an offensive reminder every time his knees creaked or his back twinged. He wasn't as fast as he used to be, nor as strong. But he was determined and stubborn, two things that would never change.

With hands trembling from the cold, he jabbed his knife into the lock and broke it with ease, a small triumph in an otherwise unforgiving journey. The shed was mostly empty, save for a pile of wood and an axe. Plenty of room for both him and the horse.

After he scattered some oats on the floor, he grabbed his rifle and marched back out into the snowy tundra to do a perimeter check, knowing he would fall asleep the moment he allowed himself to slow down. By the time he deemed the area safe, he retreated back into the woodshed and lit a fire in the tiny furnace to warm up a bit.

Once he got feeling back in his fingers, he cracked open some stew and ate it cold straight from the can, too impatient to warm it up and too eager to get some rest. The wind howled outside, practically screaming at him with every gust: How could you say that to me?

The horse nickered softly, her head lowered, one back leg cocked as she began to doze off. He laid on the wooden floor, partially resting inside his sleeping bag, ready to strike if there was an intruder. The back of his wrist laid against his forehead while he stared blankly at the ceiling, wondering for the umpteenth time if what he was doing was even going to work. If he would even be capable of finding your house in this town, let alone finding any pictures still in good enough condition to bring back to you.

But it was all he had.

You had mentioned to him when he was sick, after you saw the photo of Sarah, how you wished you had pictures of your family. You looked so somber and distant and he was once again reminded that even though you lost them ten years ago, in your mind you only lost them months ago.

He couldn't imagine losing Sarah twice. Waking up one day, thinking she was alive and healthy and late for school just to be told she was killed mercilessly ten years prior and died in his arms. You were so much stronger than him. You always were. You were told your whole world changed, your family gone, and then tossed into a house with him, pressured by everyone every damn day to regain your memories and become a completely different person when he knew deep down if the same had happened to him, his answer would lie at the end of a barrel. But unlike before, he might not flinch.

You really fucking hurt me, Joel.

He rubbed his face aggressively, the pain and anguish in your voice haunting him. This trip left him with too much time to get lost in his thoughts, too much time to wallow in his grief and replay every single painful memory from the past several days.

Sighing, he dropped his hands to his chest and tried to think about something else. Letting his eyes drift shut, he let his mind wander back to before. Before your accident, before he fucked everything up, back to a time when you were happy and stupidly in love.

"What's cookin', good lookin'?" he heard your voice behind him.

He grinned as he stirred a pot of sauce on the stove while you wrapped your arms around his midsection, burying your face against his back.

"My accent rubbin' off on you now?"

You giggled and let go, walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey and pouring you each a glass.

"Maybe."

You handed him his glass and clinked them together before taking a sip.

"How was patrol?" he asked, turning his attention back to the pasta.

"Boring," you replied, hopping up onto the counter next to him, swinging your legs back and forth. "Jesse has a lot of work to do. He's not seasoned enough to be out there without one of us."

He nodded thoughtfully and lifted the spoon up to your lips to taste the sauce. "Needs lemon," you said, licking your upper lip while he snatched a lemon from a basket in the corner of the kitchen and sliced it in half.

"Yeah, I know, but he's got potential. Just gotta get him to focus a bit more. Gotta be more aware of his surroundings."

You hummed and rubbed the back of your neck with a wince.

"You hurtin'?" he asked, but you shook your head immediately.

"Just tired."

"You sure?" he said while he strained the pasta. "I can rub your neck later."

"Oh, well in that case, yes. I'm absolutely aching over here," you said with a smile.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he told you, setting down the pot before wedging himself between your knees, his hands rubbing over your thighs. "Might not stop at your neck."

"Is that right?" you teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth playfully.

"Mhmm. First it's your neck, then shoulders," he said, pressing a gentle kiss against your lips, "then your back," he dragged his hands up your back and pressed you forward, nearly pulling you off the counter.

"Then what?" you asked breathlessly, arms loosely draping around the back of his neck.

"Before y'know it, you'll be pullin' at my belt, tellin' me you got an ache someplace else 'n you need me to stuff you full of my cock." His hands dragged up and down your back, his mouth nipping gently at your throat as you tipped your head back with a gasp.

"You know me so well," you murmured, a lazy smirk spreading across your face when you felt the urgency behind his touch.

"Yeah I do, baby," his words getting lost against your skin, "know you like the back of my hand. Know what makes you tick. What makes you feel good. Know what makes you scream my fuckin' name." His lips slotted over yours urgently, the pasta cold and long forgotten as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him close.

"Take me to bed, Joel," you begged after you pulled your head away, breaking the kiss and then quickly latching onto his neck. "Need you. I want - shit!" you cursed when one of you accidentally pushed a plate off the counter and it smashed into pieces against the floor.

"Leave it, don't care," he said, picking you up and pulling your attention off the shards of ceramic littering the floor. "I'll clean it up later."

His eyes popped open, the echo of your giggle from that night bouncing around his skull. It was almost laughable now, thinking he felt lonely before compared to how he felt in the middle of fucking nowhere with only a sleeping horse to keep him company.

He wasn't stupid. He knew he would need to do more than bring home some pictures to convince you to forgive him. But it was a start, and maybe, just maybe with time, you would come to understand what you meant to him.

And if he was really lucky, he might end up meaning something to you, too.

It was stupid and it didn't mean anything.

That's what you kept telling yourself ever since Joel left and you found yourself curling up in his bed at night instead of yours.

His bed was more comfortable. His room didn't store the bad memories of your fight. It was simply easier to sleep there.

It certainly didn't have anything to do with the way the sheets still smelled like him. Like the soap you both used combined with the outdoors and a hint of his sweat. And on the third night when you picked out a flannel of his from the closet and wrapped it around yourself, it was only because it was a particularly frigid night.

You didn't miss him.

Well, you missed having another person in the house, sure. But you didn't miss him on some deeper level. Maria and Ellie were wrong. They had no idea what they were talking about. They had no idea what was going through your head, what you were feeling, what you were struggling with.

There was no possible way you could have feelings for Joel. Not after everything he did and said. Not after the lies and the cheating and the deception.

But then why, when you were struggling to fall asleep at night, did your mind always wander back to the way he looked at you in the meadow, or the way his arms felt wrapped around you on the back of the horse, or the way he made you laugh when you played Monopoly?

And why did it feel like a part of you left with him that night?

"Pathetic," you muttered to yourself, pulling the sheets tighter and rolling over onto your side, his soft, worn flannel like butter against your bare skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing the memories from your mind and instead, replaying what he told you about the hospital.

He almost killed you. He was seconds away from putting a bullet in your head and only after presumably begging for your life did he let you go, and then he had the nerve to keep that information from you not only once, but fucking twice.

He was protecting Ellie.

But he still shouldn't have lied.

With a groan, you rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, sleep so far out of reach you didn't even feel like trying anymore. Then a thought occurred to you:

You weren't the only one he let live. There were two other people in Jackson who were there, who were shown mercy and didn't appear to hold any resentment towards him for it. In fact, they seemed rather happy with the second chance they were given.

You hadn't seen Ben or Lisa in a long time. The opportunity never presented itself for you to seek any perspective from them about that day.

Perhaps it was time to change that.

It took him a few hours to scope out the town and venture out of the woods, but by late morning he was heading down what looked to be one of the main thoroughfares in town, eyes squinting against the blowing snow as he tried to pinpoint the location of town hall.

All he remembered was your street name but he had absolutely no idea how to find it, so his plan was to break into the town hall and find a map. From there, he prayed Ellie's drawing was truly accurate enough to narrow down your parents' house.

He was freezing. His face was numb and his back was fucking killing him from riding so much, but he was so close. If he was lucky, he could find your house, get what he needed and head out all before nightfall. Maybe he could even spend another night in the woodshed. It wasn't so bad. At least he was warm.

As he continued to steer his horse down another road, he couldn't help but think Tommy was right about the storm. It was providing him some cover, just in case there were survivors around that wouldn't take kindly to his intrusion. He just hoped it would blow through in a day so his ride back would be clear.

After another thirty minutes of wind whipping at his face, the cold penetrating his coat and several layers underneath, he finally saw it. It was a smaller building than he imaged it to be, but the sign was clear. Hoping that the town size was as small as the town hall, he steered his mare down the drive and through the parking lot, making sure to take in his surroundings, confirming he was truly alone before he slid down from the saddle and trudged through the snow to the front doors.

He wiped away the snow from the window, peering inside before heading to another one and doing the same. It appeared to be empty so he tried the door, unsurprisingly finding it locked. He pulled out his knife and worked on the lock, his fingers stiff and his ears so cold he could barely feel them anymore. Finally, he broke the lock but when he shoved the door, there was something blocking him on the other side.

"Shit," he muttered, glancing around, kicking and dusting snow off the surrounding area, looking for a brick or a rock. Giving up, he grabbed his rifle from the saddle and angrily made his way to the nearest window, smashing the butt of his gun against the glass repeatedly until it shattered. He gasped for air, not realizing how much energy he was exerting before he continued, knocking out as much of the glass as he could.

Sticking his head inside, he looked around. The place seemed empty. It was quiet, covered in dust and debris. Untouched dust was good. It meant nobody had been there in a while. Human or otherwise.

He crawled through the window, taking great care to not catch on any jagged edges. He held his breath, ears straining for any noise that might give someone away, but all he heard was the howling wind outside. This is your fault. Still, he kept his guard up. He walked room to room, finding his way to the lobby and searching the front desk for a map.

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he grumbled as he opened and shut each drawer in the desk, only pausing to snatch up an old protein bar and shoving it in his pocket.

With a sigh, he looked around the room. There were a couple benches, chairs that were moved and tipped over, papers scattered about but his eyes were drawn to the portraits on the wall. There were a few paintings of men he would never recognize, unknown sheriffs and mayors, and some framed pictures of the staff, but the one that really drew his attention was the large map on the wall next to the front doors.

It was a road map of the town. Simple, but it was all he needed. He rounded the desk and shined his flashlight over the map, studying it, searching for where he was before looking for your street.

"Grant Street."

"Grant?" he repeated, his fingers lightly skirting up and down your bare back.

"Mhmm," you confirmed, eyes closed, a small, satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you buried your face into his neck.

"That's funny," he said, his hand wandering past your waist and over your ass.

"Why's that?"

"Grant's my Mama's maiden name."

Your eyes opened and locked onto his. "Maybe it's fate, then."

Maybe it was.

Grant was only four blocks north. It didn't look like a very long road, either.

He could do this.

He was so close.

Lisa answered the door with the same look of surprise as before, although this time she was clutching needles and yarn in her left hand while the fire quietly crackled behind her.

"Hey," you said, arms wrapped around yourself as the snow storm continued to swirl behind you. "Can I come in?"

"Oh! Of course!" Lisa said, stepping back, "how rude of me. Can I get you something warm to drink?" She closed the door behind you and took a step towards the kitchen. "I just boiled some water for tea, it's still hot."

"Tea sounds lovely, thank you," you said as you hung up your coat and scarf, trying your best not to make a mess of melted snow all over her floor.

She told you to make yourself comfortable while she prepared your tea, so you wandered into her tiny living room, the space seeming a little larger now without your two imposing men.

"Where's Ben?"

"Working," she said, setting down a teacup and saucer next to hers. "I put a little sugar in it."

"Oh, thank you, that's perfect. I like it sweet," you replied, sitting down on the same couch as before and bringing the cup to your lips.

"I know, I remember," she said, and when she sat down and fixed her billowy top, you noticed for the first time the small bump protruding low on her hips.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and she followed your gaze.

"Oh, yes," her tone soft, "I'm due this spring."

"Wow. Congratulations, Lisa. That's wonderful, I had no idea. I thought I would have seen you from time to time at the infirmary," you explained, setting down your tea.

"Nick agrees to see me after hours, sometimes he makes house calls," she said, picking up her needles again.

You titled your head to the side. "Why do you want to be seen after hours?"

Her lips pressed into a thin line, eyes fixed on the yellow blanket she was making. "I still find it difficult sometimes to face some of the others in town, I suppose. I know I shouldn't but the guilt sticks with me."

"Guilt?"

Her eyes flicked up to yours and she shifted her weight. "I know Ben mentioned the Fireflies to you." She held out her wrist, showing you the small moth-like symbol tattooed there. "I'm not sure how much you know or remember-"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," you said, taking a deep breath. "Joel told me everything. About the Fireflies. About the hospital."

Her eyes widened, the needles abandoned in her lap.

"Oh."

"Yeah," you said, chewing on your lip and glancing at the fire. "He told me what he did there. Told me he spared us, let us go."

"Yes, he did," she agreed softly.

"Can you tell me more about that day?" you asked, dragging your eyes back to meet hers. "I'm having trouble understanding how I could have known this before and still managed to fall in love with him."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

You laughed dryly and shrugged. "I mean he almost killed us. He killed countless innocent people, friends of ours I'm assuming, and I'm expected to believe I just looked past it? We just looked past it?" You motioned between the two of you. "He's a murderer, Lisa. He-"

"We're murderers," she corrected, and you fell silent. "We killed innocent people. We helped lead a revolution that resulted in hundreds of deaths, and where did that get us? Nowhere! People weren't any better off. In fact, they were worse. Friends and family killed, caught in the crossfire, tangled up in this idea of freedom and safety and giving their lives to an empty cause."

You swallowed as you watched Lisa's face, her eyes fiery and her tone hardened, transforming into a different version of herself before your very eyes.

"What Joel did..." she trailed off as she thought back to that day. "We did bad things. So did he, but he single handedly cut the Fireflies off at the legs. He stopped the insanity, stopped the war, stopped the ridiculous experiments and half baked ideas to save the world, regardless of the lives lost along the way. You don't remember, I understand, but allow me to explain."

"Please," you begged softly, "please tell me everything."

She rested a palm against her swelling stomach and leaned back. "We realized we made a mistake pretty early on," she began, "but we didn't have anywhere else to go. We had been living in the wild for so long. We were tired and hungry and weak and we fell for it. Fell for the sales pitch when they found us. We were told we wouldn't have to fight, but they didn't tell us what they expected us to do."

"W-what did we do?" you stammered, sitting on the edge of your seat.

"We killed people. Innocent people, point blank. FEDRA soldiers. Civilians who ratted out our location for extra food for their family. Children-" her voice wobbled a bit as she looked down at her stomach. "Children who were experimented on, vaccine prototypes tested on, who became horribly disfigured a-and screaming in pain, begging to be put out of their misery-"

"Okay," you said, cutting her off and taking a deep breath, unable to hear much more. It was becoming clear why Joel kept this from you, and although you had a right to know, you were beginning to understand his motivation. He was trying to protect you.

"Anyway," Lisa continued, flicking a tear from her cheek, "we planned on getting out. We couldn't do it anymore. Then, Joel showed up."

You held your breath, waiting for her to continue.

"We were doing perimeter checks. Loosening a spot in the gate so we could sneak out later that night. Then we heard the gunshots. And at first, we thought some infected got in. It was the perfect distraction, so we grabbed our gear and made a run for it."

She paused to take a sip from her tea, her eyes looking miles away.

"We almost made it. We were in the parking garage loading up a vehicle when he snuck up behind us. Told us to lay face down on the ground with our hands behind our heads. We never saw him and it wasn't until later we found out he was all alone. The whole time we were convinced it had to have been a group of men. It seemed impossible for one man to do what he did, but somehow..."

She trailed off again and cleared her throat.

"He gave us a second chance when we didn't deserve it," she said solemnly. "You and Ben dealt with the weight of what we did far better than me. I still struggle with the guilt, I can't..." she looked up at you, "I hope you never remember."

A chill went down your spine and you nodded.

"Try not to hold it against him," she said, offering you a small smile. "We've all done terrible things. It's not all black and white."

It ain't black and white.

"Yeah, okay," you replied quietly, standing up from the couch, your mind reeling. "Thanks," you added, motioning to the tea before she walked you to the door, "and congratulations again."

"Thank you," she said, rubbing her belly, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm glad you stopped by. The truth is sometimes ugly, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve to understand the whole picture." You nodded and bent over to shove on your boots. "Joel's not a bad man. I'm sure he was just trying to protect you by leaving some things out about our past. He would have told you eventually."

When the whole goddamn world ends and all you got left is one or two people you care 'bout, you'll do whatever you gotta do to protect 'em.

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that now," you said, shrugging on your coat with a wry smile.

The whole way home, you practically kicked yourself for not visiting Lisa sooner. Maybe it would have made a difference, maybe not. But it finally felt like a missing puzzle piece was back in place and you could begin to make sense of your confusing feelings for Joel.

Ellie was incredibly talented.

He needed to make sure to remind her of that when he got home because even through the blowing snow, in near whiteout conditions, he was still able to figure out which house was yours because Ellie's drawing was so detailed, so accurate that it almost felt like he had been there before.

He was eager and impatient. He just wanted to get inside and get what he needed and leave, but before he did, he peered inside the windows and did a walk around the whole house three times, just in case. It was a small brick ranch and if the snow wasn't so thick, he would be able to see the black shutters framing the front windows, just like in the drawing.

He shouldered open the side garage door first, a pile of fluffy snow spilling over the hard concrete as he stumbled in and shimmied open the roll top door so he could bring his mare inside.

He pat her between the eyes, murmuring his thanks for being so damn tough and sprinkled some more oats on the ground before slipping inside the house.

The door from the attached garage led right into a kitchen, which, by the looks of it, was rifled through on more than one occasion. No doubt some survivors had come through over the years and turned the place upside down for anything useful, but that didn't matter to him. What he needed wouldn't be stolen.

Glancing at the fridge, he paused when he saw some photos stuck to the door. He leaned his rifle against the wall and shook his head, curls flinging melted snow over the dusty floor, then bent over to examine the pictures. Most of them didn't have you and he began to worry he was in the wrong house after all, but then he saw it: at the very top was a picture of four people, all wearing summer clothes and Mickey Mouse ears with the Cinderella castle in the background. A middle aged man and woman bookended a young man, lean but muscular with his arm draped around your shoulders.

You were younger, maybe still in high school, and your hair was longer and lighter, but he would recognize that smile anywhere.

He carefully plucked the photo from the fridge and brought it closer, his eyes raking over every detail of the picture, from the brightness in your eyes to the cotton candy pink sky behind you.

You looked so happy.

Nothing like the way you looked when he last saw you: broken and bruised. Ruined and dejected. Because of him.

You spared my life just to break my heart.

He blinked and pocketed the photo before turning around. The living room was in worse condition. It appeared someone must have stayed there at one point because the couches were shifted around, an armchair wedged in front of the door, cushions flung around haphazardly.

He had to move furniture out of the way, dig around a bit through broken bookshelves, but he managed to finally unearth an old photo album. Resting on one of the couch cushions with a huff, he took a few moments to flip through it, smiling now and then when he saw an especially cute picture of you. The wind outside was howling so loudly, the old house creaking with every gust that he couldn't hear when footsteps slowly crept up behind him and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own rifle.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

He knew better. He should have scoped out the inside of the house before getting distracted. But he was too excited and too eager to get what he came for that he forgot his own rules. And he took for granted the snowstorm would hide his tracks.

Now he was hunched over on the living room floor, leaning against the wall with his wrists tied behind his back while five raiders went through his things.

"Hey man, don't you like peaches?"

"Fuck yeah I do, give it here."

Joel groaned, the back of his head throbbing, thick, sticky blood slowly trickling down the back of his neck.

"He's waking up."

"Hey, princess, how's the head?" one said with a sinister laugh. Joel ignored him.

"You got some nice shit. Wanna tell us where your camp is?"

Joel opened his eyes and glared at the man in front of him, wearing a leather jacket and leather gloves and a black bandana pulling his dark, wiry hair off his scarred face.

"Fuck you."

The punch came fast and hard across his jaw, making him see stars for a moment. The other men chuckled and got back to dividing up his things.

"You wanna try that again?" the first man asked, crouching down in front of him. Joel tugged on the rope holding his wrists together. The knot was tight but it wasn't foolproof. He just needed a little time to loosen it up.

"Don't got a camp."

"Bullshit," the man barked, spitting against the wall next to Joel's head. "Ain't nobody out here with this kinda gear and a goddamn horse roughing it all alone. Now, just tell us the city and we'll take it from there. We'll even let you live."

He heard one of the other men scoff but the rest remained quiet, and if Joel wasn't already convinced they were planning to kill him either way, he definitely was now.

"Boise."

"Boise?" he repeated, and Joel nodded, twisting his hands behind his back, feeling the coarse rope burn against his skin. The man in the leather jacket sighed and hung his head before landing another blow, this time across the mouth. Joel's lower lip got snagged on his teeth and tore. Blood trickled down his chin as he angrily whipped his head back towards the raider.

"I told you what you wanted!"

"You fed me a bunch of bullshit is what you did," he said, kicking Joel in the ribs. He gasped for air, doubled over against the wall, coughing and spraying blood across the faded floral wallpaper. He wondered if your parents did the wallpaper themselves, if your mom picked it out, or did the house already come like that?

Joel tugged harder on the rope, feeling it start to give. He needed to stay focused. He needed to make every move count if he wanted to get out of this alive.

The raider pulled a revolver from the back of his pants - Joel's revolver - and flipped it over in his hands. Back and forth, back and forth. Then he leaned forward and pressed the barrel against Joel's forehead.

"I'll give you one more chance, asshole," he said, his dark eyes boring into Joel's, "tell us where your camp is or else I shoot you in the fucking head."

"What the hell was he doing here anyway?"

"Shut up, Mike," the guy in the leather growled, eyes still trained on Joel.

"No, but seriously. There's nothing in this house worth taking. We've been through this neighborhood months ago."

The raider's eyes flickered around the room and Joel tugged harder on his restraints when he looked away. Then the man spotted the photo album lying face down on the ground.

"What's this?" he asked, lowering the gun and picking up the album. He began to flip through it and Joel felt the rope finally give. The raider let out a low whistle and slid a photo out to look at it closer. "Don't tell me you came out in the middle of a storm just to find something to jack off to," he teased, holding up a photo of you in a yellow bikini by a pool. He flipped the picture back around and grinned. When he went to stuff it in his pocket, his attention momentarily diverted, Joel took his opportunity to strike.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched the revolver from the raider's fingers and shot him in the temple, his body immediately falling limply to the side. Wet, sticky blood sprayed all over Joel's hand but he just tightened his grip on the gun, taking aim and bringing down another one of the men while they were still too stunned to move.

"Fuck!" one of the remaining three men screamed as they scrambled for cover. Joel ducked behind the couch and held his breath, straining to hear the scuffling of their boots, trying to pinpoint where they were in the small room. When he heard one of them accidentally knock against the kitchen table, the wooden legs scraping against the linoleum, he straightened up and took aim, taking out another man with a bullet right between the eyes, but unfortunately one of the last two men got a shot in as well.

The bullet grazed against his left bicep. Joel hissed and ducked back behind the couch. He would deal with it later.

"Come on, man, we can work something out," one of the men called out after a minute. "Let's just go our separate ways. Act like this never-"

Joel jumped up and shot the man in the cheek, the bullet traveling through his mouth and out the back of his head, leaving brain matter that looked like globs of gelatin dripping down the kitchen cupboards after he fell lifelessly to the ground.

Joel stepped towards the kitchen, now only one on one. He got cocky. He was feeling too confident with how quickly he took out the group. He didn't even see it coming when the knife lodged into his side, just above his hip. Without thinking, he yanked the knife out, twisted around and jammed it into the final raider's throat, watching as he fell to the floor, choking on his own blood, and didn't look away until he stopped twitching.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins and he used it to his advantage, his left hand pressing weakly against his wound, the wound in his arm preventing it from being very effective while he searched the dead bodies of the men for anything useful. He had brought some first aid with him when he left Jackson but he was too far from home, he would need antibiotics, at least, if he was going to make it back.

Of course, he came up empty, so he snatched his first aid kit from the table and stumbled down the little hallway, searching for a bathroom. He knew it was a lost cause, the raiders already admitted to clearing the place out months ago, but he had to try.

He flung open the medicine cabinet with a grunt, the pain beginning to set in now. Pressing his bloody fingers against the stab wound as hard as he could, he rummaged around the cabinet, leaving paths of red everywhere his fingers touched, then tried the drawers under the sink.

Nothing.

"Fuck," he muttered, collapsing onto the cool tile floor as he began to sort through his first aid kit. There were no towels left but he was sitting on an old bathmat. He groaned in pain when he lifted his hips to pull the bathmat out, shook out the dust and dirt, then pressed it against his side, bringing his knee up to hold it in place.

With trembling fingers, he threaded a needle. He wiped the blood from his hands on his shirt, but they were stained red. Ripping open his jacket and flannel, he lifted the two other layers he had on underneath and lowered his leg to get a look at the wound.

It was deep and he was losing a lot of blood, but he was fairly certain the knife wasn't long enough to knick any organs. His stomach wasn't swelling, that was a good sign.

He only had a small bottle of antiseptic, so he used most of it to clean the wound and then the needle, saving a little bit to use on his arm later.

He took several quick breaths in, hyping himself up, then paused when he first shoved the needle through his skin. Tears sprung up, blurring his vision, but he blinked them away.

Focus. Focus. Focus.

In and out, in and out, he slowly stitched himself up. The angle was awkward and the stitches were ugly, but it got the job done: the bleeding stopped. His heart was hammering in his chest, sweat poured from the sides of his head, mixing with all the blood drying on his face and beard. He slumped to the ground with a pained groan, lying flat on the floor in a pool of his own blood, staring up at the ceiling. He just needed a moment to rest, a moment to catch his breath and then he would go.

Would he ever see you again? Would you ever even know why he came out there? Would you always wonder what happened to him? You told him you cared about him, but was that even true anymore? After what he did?

"C'mon, baby, gimme a sign," he whispered to himself, "gimme a sign that I still got a chance in hell 'cause if I don't, I'm not sure I got the strength to make it home." Tears welled up in his eyes again and this time he let them fall. He sniffled and waited. For what, he wasn't sure. Divine intervention? Genius to strike? A brilliant idea to form? But all he heard was the blowing wind outside.

The tile felt so cool against his burning hot skin. A small voice in the back of his head told him the longer he stayed there the weaker he would become, but he was just so tired. He rolled his head to the side, his eyes about to slide shut when he saw it: a dusty, opaque orange bottle rolled all the way against the wall underneath the sink.

Blinking a few times, he wondered if he was imagining it.

He wasn't.

Stretching his arm out, he slowly reached underneath the vanity and pulled out the half empty bottle. Holding it above his face, he squinted at the letters on the faded sticker.

Penicillin. Use as directed by your dentist.

His breath caught in his throat when he read your name on the label.

He finally got his sign.

"What happens when we die?"

"What?"

You rolled over onto your side to face him, wrapping your arm around his waist. He looked so peaceful, lying in bed like that. His eyes closed, face relaxed. You repeated your question.

"Don't know," he said, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Haven't died yet."

You giggled and he smiled, pulling you closer. He smelled so good. Like the rain and sex and smoke from the fire.

"I mean... do you think there's a heaven?"

He hummed and kissed the top of your head, his fingers lightly trailing up and down your bare arm.

"Yeah, I do."

You swallowed nervously and drew invisible circles into his skin, making him shiver.

"Do you think..." you trailed off and he froze, picking up on your tone.

"What, darlin'?"

"Do you think we'll make it? To heaven, I mean?"

His eyebrows pinched together. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You know why," you replied softly, "we've done bad things, Joel."

"Yeah, but we ain't bad people," he reminded you, then rolled over, pushing you onto your back so his arms caged you in. One knee slotted between yours and you spread your legs, hooking your ankles around the backs of his thighs.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," he said, dipping his chin down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. You sighed, your shoulders finally relaxing. "Besides, this is heaven right here," he murmured against your mouth, feeling you smile.

"Ain't nothin' better than this."

You awoke with a gasp, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. That was the first time you had a dream about Joel, and something about it made you uneasy.

You had slept in his bed the entire week, wrapped in his clothes, and today was the day you had expected him to come home. Shrugging off the dream to no more than your subconscious fixated on his return, you forced yourself to get out of bed, fixing the sheets so it wouldn't look like you had been sleeping there and then headed to your room to change and freshen up.

The past couple days you had secretly hoped he would come back sooner but you refused to let it show. If Ellie or Dina or Maria asked you about it, you played it cool, or at least you thought you did. But every night you stayed up as late as you could, curled up on the couch all alone, waiting. Every time someone walked by, your body stiffened and your pulse raced, expecting to hear his heavy footsteps walking up the porch, but they never came.

But today was the day. The seventh day. His note said a week, and you knew if Joel was alive, he would stick to his word.

His absence afforded you a lot of time to think. Time you didn't realize you desperately needed, and now that you were able to process everything clearly without his overwhelming presence muddying the waters, you felt confident you knew what you wanted now.

All day at work, you were distracted. Nick had to call your name repeatedly to get your attention on more than one occasion, and by the fifth time you felt guilty. He didn't say anything, though. He understood. By then, most of the town knew Joel had left. Word spread like wildfire, especially once the storm passed through. It didn't take a genius to figure out how difficult it would be to survive all alone in those conditions.

Then the rumors started.

You tried to ignore them, but it was hard. When people began drinking and getting loud in the dining hall, it was impossible not to hear.

When you heard a man claim he saw Joel's horse frozen in a river during patrol, you stopped going to the dining hall to eat.

It was dark, it was just a deer, Tommy had told you later after he went out to the river to check, but it still shook you up.

When the sun set on Jackson on the seventh day and Joel still hadn't returned, the fear began to take hold. Your stomach churned, making it impossible to eat the following morning. You had hardly slept, the bags under your eyes dark and heavy. Nick begged you to take the day off but you insisted you needed to stay busy, although it didn't help much. On your lunch break you tried to casually walk by the main gate, the one near the stables, hoping to catch a glimpse of him returning, but you had no such luck.

So you went back to work. You kept your hands busy, tried to keep your mind occupied, but it was impossible.

I'll spend the rest of my life makin' it up to you.

You couldn't get those words out of your head. The guilt was weighing you down as you grew worried that was going to be one of the last things he ever said to you.

"Went on a date the other night."

"With who?"

"Cindy, from the kitchen."

Ricky laughed heartily and Andrew smacked his shoulder with the back of his hand.

"Shut up, man. We're on watch, we can't be giving ourselves away."

"It's the middle of the goddamn night and we haven't seen any infected in weeks. It's too cold for them, they're all frozen somewhere waiting to thaw in the spring," Ricky said, shouldering his rifle.

"Yeah, but still. You never know. There's more than just infected out there."

Ricky chuckled and shook his head. "Tommy telling you ghost stories again?"

"Raiders ain't ghost stories, asshole," Andrew shot back.

"And raiders never make it this far up the mountains, asshole," Ricky replied, mocking Andrew's tone.

Andrew grumbled under his breath and strolled away from the tower, towards the gate, his eyes scanning the treeline. He couldn't see a damn thing. It was pitch black and deathly quiet.

He turned on his heel and began the slow walk back towards the tower where he could see Ricky unwrapping a granola bar and pulling a paperback book from his back pocket.

Just as he was about to chastise him for letting his guard down, he heard twigs snapping in the woods. He whipped around, bringing his rifle up so he could get a better look with his scope.

"What the hell was that?" Ricky's whisper materialized in his ear.

"Dunno. Something's out there."

Ricky lifted his own rifle and scanned the trees as well, both of them holding their breath, waiting for another noise.

"Maybe-"

Then they heard more twigs snapping and pine trees raking against fabric. Louder this time.

"Fuck," Ricky muttered nervously, his palms growing sweaty inside his gloves.

"There," Andrew said lowly, and Ricky followed his aim. Something was approaching in the dark. Something big.

"I got it."

"No, just wait a second," Andrew said, squinting through the scope. Then his jaw went slack when he realized what it was.

"It's a horse."

"What?"

"It's a fucking horse, bro," Andrew repeated, his voice rising a little.

When it finally emerged from the forest, they saw the rider slumped over, covered in snow, their face buried in the horse's mane.

"Holy shit," Andrew said, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and racing towards the ladder. "Radio Tommy!"

"W-what do I say?" Ricky stammered, fumbling with the radio dial.

"Tell him it's Joel!"

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[alyssiamarierenee]

The Eye of the Hurricane 18 - Sneak Peek

Series Masterlist

“Charm, how long are you going to keep this silent treatment going?” Bucky’s voice reached you and you kept your focus on Alpine, holding the feather as she smacked it with her paw. “I mean you were the one who went and met up with your ex—”

“A friendly lunch!” you said, lifting your gaze from Alpine to see him leaning against the door of his changing room, his arms crossed. Your heart skipped a beat but you pursed your lips, painfully aware of the petulant expression on your face.

“Does he know it was friendly?”

“What do you want me to do Bucky, make him sign a paper to acknowledge it?” you asked back and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “Why did you two break up?”

You frowned. “What?”

“I mean I know how good you are at holding grudges, so being friends with an ex doesn’t sound like you, to be honest.”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Maybe he didn’t give me any reason to hold a grudge,” you said. “No wonder you wouldn’t get it.”

[alyssiamarierenee]

situationship - pt thirty-one

Eddie Munson x petite!fem!Reader (sfw)

Synopsis: As inevitable as the rehearsal dinner was, the day of the wedding continues on. Even hundreds of miles away, it feels impossible to shake free. Paige does her best to help talk you through it.

Warnings: slight angst, anxiety, mental exhaustion, paige does her best to help the reader, guilt, insecurities

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: :)

So, the day happened. 

Inescapably, the morning turned to afternoon then the afternoon turned to night. Outside, the familiar lights of the city were welcomed through your tall windows. A more modern architectural look compared to your parents’ place. A sea of people outside heading out for the evening, those returning to work, those going to work–you found yourself out on your balcony once more. 

Carly had gone into work for an oven that wasn’t turning on. Francesca was out grabbing pizza for dinner. Paige was poking her head out the door, tucking her rose gold hair behind her ear and giving you a lopsided smile. 

She'd had your phone the rest of the day. After going inside and composing yourself that morning, you'd passed it to her. Per Francesca's recommendation, as you stepped through the door, you didn't really want to handle any of it if anything came through. Odds were, nothing would. All eyes would be on Bri and Dylan. Nothing would blow up until tonight or tomorrow, so there was no point in having the anxiety of constantly checking your phone. It was a waste of the battery. 

You still thought about it as you ran through a show you’d fallen gravely behind in watching. Missed some important scenes while you replayed the last few weeks. Frustratingly. The good and the bad and the irritating. 

This was your only moment alone when you weren’t in the bathroom, and you needed it. 

To just feel the wind on your face. To listen to the different honks of the cars that’d keep you awake some nights. Of the windows to a few neighbors that you’d met at the coffee shop across the road back when it was still fully functioning. Leaned into the gentle touch of Paige’s hand on your shoulder and you sat back in the chair. 

“You okay?” she asked softly. 

“Yeah, I’m just…exhausted from the waiting. And I feel a bit like shit for taking off the way I did.”

“You were going to leave anyway,” Paige murmured, sitting down on the chair beside yours. “Really, what difference does it make whether you’re here or there at this point?”

You took a deep breath and watched the stars in the sky that you were struggling a bit to see. They were there, just had to squint to see them. 

“A few differences. I think. I wouldn’t have gone to the wedding or anything, but…I feel like a petulant child. I just…took off. I didn’t tell my parents, didn’t tell my siblings–just left.”

“You told me.” Paige pursed her lips. “You told Eddie.”

You looked at her, waiting for her to say more. She was your best friend, and she picked you up, of course, you told her. And Eddie…that'd just been a courtesy. To prevent pointless concern that could make a situation worse. 

“You told people you care about,” she whispered. “Not that you don’t care about your family, but…” She sucked in her cheeks and gave you a small wince. “I feel like I shouldn’t need to be the one reminding you that you don’t need to please them all the time. You just need to look in a mirror to do that.”

You barked out a laugh that came with a painful snort. 

“Jesus Christ, Paige.”

“Your words,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I’m just talking about this. All of this. It takes a lot of guts to say no to a massive part of your life and do what feels right for you. Without a supportive family. So you should know that, sometimes, you’re going to do things that your family doesn’t see the same way as you.” 

“Paige…”

“And, hey, if you need that reminder, I’ll be right here to remind you of that very fact.” She reached over and squeezed your hand. “You remember how my mom’s parents reacted when I brought Carly home for the first time. We all knew it was going to happen, but I wasn’t going to keep Carly a secret just cause my grandparents are homophobes. I lost a set of grandparents the second I walked through their front door that night.” 

It wasn’t comparable in a direct sense, but the look she gave you said not to look that deep into it. You kept the comment to yourself and let her continue. 

“Why put effort into a family that doesn’t value you for who you are?” Paige murmured. “That’s all.” 

The question she’d never asked, but she’d had it ready. Had it ready for years. The words left her so easily. A saved quote locked up and she’d finally turned the key and let it loose. 

But you already had an answer you weren't sure whether you liked or not. One that held too much weight over your shoulders, especially now. With Paige, Francesca, Carly, Eddie, Jason, Marissa, and, hell, even Zach, and reconnecting that bit with Robin.

"They're the only family I have." You shrugged. "I don't know. I don't want to lose them any more than I already have. It's why I agreed to go over to help so early–I thought I could show them that I could be helpful. That I'd get to really see them since they don't come here to visit, and I…I haven't felt that welcome there since leaving. I wanted to just have a good trip back to Hawkins, and I thought…maybe this time?"

“Okay. I offer an alternative question.” She had a determined look about her. Her mom was a therapist, and you could see her mom making the exact same expression while sitting across from a patient. “Did you have a good time with them before all of this blew up?”

"You're psychoanalyzing me, Paige." You leveled a look at her, and she tried not to smile. "You look and sound just like your mother."

“I’m trying to help.” She reached out and playfully smacked your arm. “Okay?”

“It wasn’t all that bad, okay? We actually did get along as a family once upon a time. It’s just different now since…” You waved a hand. “You already know all of this. If I hadn’t left, blah, blah, blah–one big happy family–”

“Jason would still want to leave,” she said point blank. “Wouldn’t he? He and Marissa would still leave for the city, then what? Bri would be marrying Dylan, then you’d be stuck working there in Hawkins without a college degree, shackled to your parents, having never met me, Carly, my family, or Francesca.”

She glanced down at her lap, lip pursing again. 

“Never would’ve had that rendezvous with Eddie.”

“Again–Jesus, Paige,” you muttered, laughing dryly. 

You peered over at her, and she kept that same determined look. There came the crumbling. Slowly, around the guilt shoving itself through your veins, everything crumbled. She was right, wasn’t she? If you’d decided to stay in Hawkins after graduation and worked alongside your parents, you would’ve been stuck. Trapped. Your roots would’ve been so deep in Hawkins, you’d never escape.

You probably would've ended up dating Zach, which…old (Y/N) would've been all for.

Current (Y/N) was…different. 

Current (Y/N) couldn’t help but picture Eddie and Wayne. Eddie wanted out of Hawkins so fucking badly, Wayne wanted it for him too–to get away from everything that had shackled itself to his nephew. All the rumors, the loss, the pain, the reputation that hung around his shoulders. Half like a cape he wore with pride; half like a spotlight acting as a reminder for decisions he'd made when he was younger. 

Inside, you heard the lock turn, and some keys rattle as Francesca came back in with the pizza. She'd either come and find you or just start eating–either way, Paige didn't look done. 

She wasn’t. 

“Can I ask another question?” she murmured. She nudged your foot with hers. 

You nodded. 

“Why’d you start that with Eddie if you knew you were leaving?” 

You cocked a brow and glanced at her. 

“Not that you have to explain yourself to me. I just mean…if we’re going by types here, Francesca’s the type to have flings, I’m practically engaged, and you…are still experimenting. It just seems really risky. I never expected it from you. Not in a bad way or anything. You’re usually just more calculated about what you do. Like you wade into the waters, not jump head first.” She scrunched her nose. “But I guess that depends on the arbitrary structure of how you organize certain relationships, titles, romantic and sexual acts–”

Good lord. You choked on a laugh and bit your knuckle to keep from following it into hysterics. You were a little offended, but after Andy, you couldn’t really be that lost by her train of thought. You’d thought the same thing. Then, next thing you knew, you were sneaking over to Eddie’s and were on your back on his couch. And in his van. And in his bed. 

Had it been anyone else…

That hurt. Like some sicko launched a jellyfish right at your chest. 

Had it been anyone else, you wouldn't have done any of that. Would you? It was because it was him. Irritatingly. Damn it. 

"I used to have a crush on him. Sorta." You gave Paige a crooked grin and laughed again when she looked taken aback. "Then I saw him working for my parents, and one thing led to another, and I just kinda wanted to see what I'd missed out on. And he…he kind of understood? I don't know how to explain it, but I explained it to him, and he brought me out on a really fun date. I mean, he brought me a rose and got me dinner and…”

“You need to raise your standards,” Paige said flatly. 

"In Hawkins, that's the cream of the crop." You snorted. "When all I have to use as reference data is Andy, Eddie was like going from a two-star hotel to a five. I don't know. I felt better when I was with him."

“Good sex will do that to you.”

“Paige.” You felt your face start to burn. “It was more than that!”

“Oh, so it was more than sex?” Paige tilted her head and–oh, she was good. She gave you a knowing smile that made your mouth dry up and your chest hurt a bit more. “Hm?”

“It…”

“It what?”

It what? What were you supposed to call it? It was pointless. Dwelling on this was pointless. All of this was pointless. Sure, you felt a little better about suddenly flying home, but trying to fix whatever inner turmoil was going on with just the topic of Eddie…it wasn’t going to happen right now. Not when it was still so fresh. 

“It…I don’t know. I'm new to these things. I don't know what to call it. Just that every time I was with him, I wasn't thinking about whatever was going on back at the house or anything but him and having fun and not worrying about stupid stuff. Except I was really, really aware that the days were counting down, and I'd be back here eventually. Inevitably. And I didn't like that.” You pressed your back against the chair and covered your face with your hands. A long groan vibrated against them. “I mean, yeah, I didn't know sex could be that good, but it felt like more than that with him, and I'm pissed at myself because I shouldn't be feeling that."

“Why not?” she asked calmly. Like it wasn’t some life-shattering question. 

"Cause–" You kept your hands on your face and leaned forward, elbow digging into your knees through your pajama pants. "Cause, for once, I was a little upset about coming back here cause he wouldn't be here, and I felt like I was potentially losing out on something there that I never really had."

You listened to the chair creak before you felt her hand on your shoulder. Part of you wanted to shrug it off, but you kept still. A little shake made you do just that, but the tears only stung your eyes. Nothing more than an annoyance as you took breath after steadying breath. 

“You’re too good at that,” you muttered into your palms. “Thanks.”

Cause, inevitably, it was helping you. Even if you were trying your damnedest not to think about any of that. Or Eddie. Or Hawkins. Or the wedding reception and afterparty still going on. 

Damn it.

"Oh, don't thank me yet." The chair squeaked as she stood. Her flip-flops scraped against the ground, and you smelled three distinct scents in the breeze that blew. The familiar scent of Mozzie's Italian Pizzeria that was always worth the extra ten minutes to go grab, Paige’s signature cherry blossom perfume, and…coconut?

You lowered your hands and glanced up at Paige.

No.

Nope.

Your heart stopped, and you blinked hard at the door. 

Your phone fell heavy in your still-cupped hands as Paige smiled cheekily.

“Told you not to thank me yet." She turned and faced the very tall, very familiar, very brown-eyed man leaning in the doorway, looking smug as all hell. "She's all yours."

Eddie rolled out of the way and held out a hand as Paige passed by. She disappeared back inside as you just…stared. What…how…why? What? What? He…how? 

“So,” he mused as he took one step onto the porch and slowly closed the door behind him. 

He rocked a bit on his heels while spinning a cigarette between his fingers. The wind caught his hair–pulled half up, half down. His leather jacket hung over his shoulders, same old black jeans on his legs, and a tight, faded red shirt clung to his chest. He turned that cocky grin your way as his fingers ran over the back of the chair Paige had been in. 

His cheeky, smug voice seemed to fit right in along with the rest of the noise of the city. 

That hollow hole in your stomach felt far smaller as his eyes lingered on yours. 

“My dick game was that good, huh?”

[alyssiamarierenee]

pictures of julien baker that are so ellie williams coded to me (for no specific reason) ౨ৎ

[alyssiamarierenee]

this animal

[alyssiamarierenee]

The Eye of the Hurricane [17] - Disagreements

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Petty fights can start out of nowhere.

Word Count: 2800

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Waking up and not finding Bucky in bed next to you wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

He always woke up before you, but this was the first time you were hearing a second, very familiar voice booming through the house and you sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes.

What on earth was your father doing in your apartment this early on in the morning?

You pushed the covers off of you and looked around the room for Alpine but she wasn’t there either. Grabbing the first thing you found -which turned out to be one of Bucky’s crisp white button up shirts- you pulled it over your tank top and shorts, then went downstairs, following the voices.

“If this has been your plan all along,” your father’s stern voice reached your ear from Bucky’s office, “I swear to God—”

“I don’t have any plans,” Bucky’s much calmer voice replied and you pulled your brows together, approaching the doorframe but still shielding yourself from their gaze. Alpine meowed when she saw you, running to you but neither of them seemed to notice it.

“No?” your father asked. “So this is not some sort of elaborate plot to take over my territory?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why was she having a briefing with Rogers?”

“Because I don’t think my wife should be kept out of the business entirely,” Bucky said as you bent down to scratch at Alpine’s head before straightening your back again. “It’s the new generation, we do things differently now.”

Your father let out a furious breath.

“Listen,” he said. “I don’t care what you do with your own business, but if you’re putting ideas into my daughter’s head—”

“Arthur, she’s smart as fuck, you do realize that?” Bucky snapped, making you smirk. “There’s no idea I can put into her head that she hasn’t thought about to begin with.”

“Not to mention,” you said and stepped into the office, making both of them turn to look at you. “She has a phone. So if you wanted to see me, you could just let me know.”

Your father gritted his teeth and stole a look at Bucky. “Give us a minute.”

If it were anyone else, you were sure they would be hurrying off to the door because you had seen your father intimidate countless men throughout your life, but Bucky didn’t seem intimidated in the slightest as he leaned back to his desk.

“This is my house,” he replied, making your father blink a couple of times.

“And I’d like a moment alone with my daughter.”

Bucky turned to look at you as if silently asking if you wanted him to leave and you shook your head, then crossed your arms.

“Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of my husband,” you told him, making Bucky grin proudly. “So?”

Your father’s glare at you was enough to make the sudden chill of nervousness shoot through you, but you didn’t let it show on your face as he shook his head.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I literally woke up to you guys’ yelling to be honest—”

“Having a meeting with Rogers,” he cut you off impatiently as if he didn’t have the time for your jokes. “What is that about?”

You let a smirk pull your lips.

“Did Ian come and cry to you about it?” you asked. “Honestly.”

“He did let me know, yes,” he said. “As he was supposed to. Seeing that you weren’t planning on telling me about it, I’m glad he did.”

“You have your messenger boy there already,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “It’s clear you don’t need me to tell you anything.”

He took a deep breath like he was trying his hardest to stay calm and you stole a look at Bucky who gave you an assuring smile, watching you two.

“Sweetheart,” he said, the slight condescending tone in his voice making you clench your jaw. “I know that you want to be a part of the business, and Bucky is for some reason fueling this nonsense, but—”

“He’s not fueling anything,” you growled. “I happen to have my own mind, unlike what you seem to think.”

“Y/N—”

“I mean who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

“Okay!” Bucky cut you two off before your father could answer. “Can I suggest we all calm down before anyone says anything they might regret?”

Both you and your father looked at him before turning to glare at each other again and your father pursed his lips, heaving a sigh.

“I’m not trying to patronize you,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Might be too late for that.”

“But I need you to be safe,” he said, making Bucky frown for the first time. “And becoming a part of the business…”

“To repeat, I can make my own decisions.”

“I’m not putting her in danger, Arthur,” Bucky said, his voice calm despite the stern expression on his face. “You know I would never.”

“Right,” your father scoffed and gave you a warning look. “Y/N, I mean it. What you’re trying to do—”

“What makes you think I’m trying to do anything?”

“Because I wrote the playbook you’re following,” your father replied. “I taught you every single trick, and now you’re going to turn around and treat me like I’m clueless?”

You clicked your tongue, tilting your head.

“I’m not doing anything that you haven’t been doing with me for years now,” you said. “You pushed me out of the picture, you’ve been treating me with kid gloves and you have the audacity to give me that speech right now?”

He ran a hand over his face.

“I’m only doing what your mother would like, for you.”

You let out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

“No,” you said. “You’re doing what you would like, for me. And I’m done letting you.”

You could see a muscle in his jaw ticking as he glared at you for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“We will talk later when you’re calmer,” he said and stormed out of the office before you heard the front door slam. You rolled your eyes and turned to Bucky who gave you a tight-lipped smile.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” you asked back and Bucky waved a hand in the air.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Hungry though. Breakfast?”

You huffed out a laugh and nodded your head.

“Yes please,” you said. “Jesus, what a morning.”

                                               *

It wasn’t that you kept the fact that you were meeting Ethan this afternoon a secret, it was just that you didn’t think Bucky needed to know about it. This marriage was fake yes, and it wasn’t like you were having a secret affair meeting, you two were just friends and it was a normal gather up with your friend.

Or at least, that’s what you had been trying to convince yourself of the whole morning.

You drummed your fingernails on the table and reached out to grab your cup to take a sip of your latte, but lowered it when the wind bells by the door chimed and your gaze fell on Ethan. He looked around the café, then gave you a small smile and approached you as you stood up.

“Hey,” he said, giving you a curt hug and you smiled as he pulled back, then sat down again.

“Hi,” you said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you two,” he said as he sat down and ordered a coffee. “How have you been?”

“Good,” you said. “You?”

“Busy a bit. You look—” he paused for a moment when his eyes fell upon your wedding ring. “Married.”

You let out a nervous laugh and heaved a sigh.

“Mm hm.”

He pursed his lips together and took a deep breath.

“I owe you an apology,” he said, making you shake your head.

“Ethan…”

“I do,” he said. “I’m—It was stupid to say all that shit. Trust me, I wanted to text and apologize so many times, I just didn’t think you wanted to hear my voice.”

You rolled your eyes at him in a lighthearted manner.

“Ethan, you happen to be the only person in my life who’s not…” you trailed off and he gave you a small smile.

“Who’s not following the same career path?”

You clicked your tongue. “That’s one way to put it,” you said, making him chuckle. “So yeah, I reacted badly as well. I was very tense when we had that conversation.”

He offered his hand. “Truce then?”

You scoffed a laugh, then reached out to shake his hand.

“Everyone knows I’m a big fan of truce,” you said and he grinned, then thanked the waitress when she brought his coffee.

“So,” he said after taking a sip of his coffee. “How is it then? Do guns go off when you and Barnes enter the building or…?”

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Ethan.”

“Do you guys do that Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit?”

“Wrong movie reference.”

He held up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Does he still dislike me?”

The correct and honest answer would be that Bucky didn’t even think about Ethan, at least in your opinion. Not only did he have bigger problems what with HYDRA and their attacks in the city, his dynamic with the other bosses were bound to get tense with you officially becoming a part of the business.

So, he was probably too busy to sit around and think about Ethan.

“Nah I don’t think so,” you managed to say, leaning back. “That night at the club, I know he was an asshole but we were…things were weird between us then.”

“I’d say so,” he said, and licked his lips. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said. “As long as I can answer it hypothetically, that is.”

“Is it real?”

That managed to make you pull back slightly and you blinked a couple of times before heaving a sigh.

“I don’t understand what you—”

“Because I’d like to think that we had something, back at college,” he said, making your brows furrow. “And that night at the club, you weren’t looking at him like…I could’ve sworn you hated him, Y/N.”

“Like I said, things were weird between us then,” you muttered, turning the coffee cup in this saucer and he shook his head.

“And it changed that fast?” he asked. “Listen, I’m going to shut up if you don’t want me to talk about this, but if it’s not real—”

“If it’s not real, you’ll save me?” you asked with a scoff. “I’m not some princess in a castle Ethan.”

“Trust me, I’m well aware.”

“Hypothetically, even if it weren’t—”

“Hypothetically,” he cut you off. “I’d happily wait for your divorce.”

That made you stop talking as your eyes snapped up to his and you gawked at him in a dumbfounded silence.

Ah.

Alright, this was…

The idea was quite lovely, to be honest. As you had told Becca, being with Ethan would be so simple, he was a civilian so there would be no ulterior motives or plotting or any of the tension you knew each and every couple in business had. Not only that, but Bucky had broken your heart so terribly all those years ago and you were sure that if you decided to see or treat this marriage like a real marriage, he would do it again.

Unlike Ethan.

Dear God, it would be so peaceful.

But you knew you couldn’t deal with whatever this was when you were going for your father’s crown. This right here was a distraction, and you couldn’t entertain the idea of a distraction.

You clicked your tongue and sat up straighter, checking the time.

“Sorry, I just remembered I had this thing,” you muttered, desperate to get away and he stood up as you did.

“Y/N,” he said apologetically. “I’m sorry if that sounded—”

“No no,” you said with a shake of your head. “I don’t…I get what you mean, I really do. And as much as I know you mean well, saying this now is very disrespectful to Bucky so I’d rather if we didn’t speak about this again.”

He pursed his lips and nodded his head.

“Understood,” he said. “I won’t, I promise.”

“I’ll see you later, okay?” you asked and gave him a short hug, then walked out of the café, your heart beating fast.

“What the fuck was that?” you muttered to yourself as you got into your car and let out a breath, then started driving.

                                                         *

As you walked into the Barnes skyscraper, you were still trying to comprehend just why the hell, out of all things to say to Ethan, you had chosen ‘disrespect to Bucky’ as your answer. What Ethan had said wasn’t even so bad, you had been reminding Bucky that you two would eventually get a divorce and even talk about all the things you’d do on your second wedding and marriage to someone else, but when Ethan so much as mentioned waiting for your divorce, you had decided to draw the line?

This was rather absurd.

You rolled your shoulders back as someone escorted you to the elevator and pressed the button for you and you checked your reflection in the mirror until you got to the top floor and the doors opened.

“I can find my way, thank you,” you said told the bodyguard and walked out of the elevator to make your way to Bucky’s office.

“Is he in?” you asked the receptionist who stood up when she saw you.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Great, thank you,” you said and knocked on the door, then opened it to step inside. Bucky was sitting behind his desk, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed on the computer screen, but he turned his head when he saw you and raised his brows.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you said and approached the couch to fling yourself on it, crossing your legs. “So my father didn’t call me after this morning, has George called you?”

“No.”

The curt answer made you tilt your head and you frowned at him.

“Have you heard from anyone else?” you asked. “Because I feel like—”

“How was lunch with Ethan?”

That made you stop talking and you raised your brows, your stomach doing a flip.

“Are you having me followed?” you asked sharply through your teeth and he let out a bitter chuckle.

“I don’t need to have you followed,” he said. “You met the guy in my territory in case you forgot.”

You licked your lips, crossing your arms defiantly.

“So what, am I supposed to report back to you every single thing I do now?”

“I think I’d like to know if you’re meeting your ex -who by the way, still wants to fuck you- like a week after our wedding, yeah,” he shot back, making your jaw drop.

“Easy there, cowboy.”

“Y/N we had an agreement—”

“Does it look like I’m sleeping with him from where you’re sitting?” you asked. “I know the agreement. You don’t sleep with anyone else and neither do I, until our divorce.”

“Then?”

“Then I can have lunch with whoever I want.”

“To repeat, he wants to—”

“It was a friendly lunch and he just apologized for reacted badly when I told him we would be getting married,” you defended yourself hurriedly, knowingly leaving out the part Ethan said about your potential divorce and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Oh I wonder why he reacted badly to us getting married,” he said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “What could it be? Any ideas?”

God damn it.

“This is not even a real marriage,” you hissed as you leaned in, careful not to speak too loud in case anyone outside could hear. “Or did you forget about that part?”

“Did you forget about the part we’re supposed to act madly in love?” he asked back, his voice calm unlike yours and even though he did have a point, the petulant part of you refused to acknowledge it, so you did the first thing you thought of and got up from the couch.

“I’m done talking about this.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m done I said!” you snapped over your shoulder and walked out of the office without looking back, making your way to the elevator. Your heart was beating in your ears and you grabbed your phone, and touched Becca’s name as the doors closed, the elevator moving.

“Hey,” Becca’s voice reached you. “What’s up?”

“I snapped at Ethan for disrespecting Bucky and then snapped at Bucky within the same hour,” you said and she paused for a moment, then hummed.

“I’m getting the wine ready,” she said. “Grab some sushi on your way here?”

“You got it,” you said and hung up the phone, then leaned your head back to the elevator wall. “What the actual fuck am I doing?”

[alyssiamarierenee]

situationship - pt twenty-nine

Eddie Munson x petite!fem!Reader (sfw)

Synopsis: After booking your flight, what else is there to do but fly home?

Warnings: angst, r kinda runs away, paige is ride or die, some guilt, some anxiety, some more heartbreak and frustration, mental exhaustion

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: i will not claim that the reader is a great role model in this story.

* = section break

Maybe you should’ve told someone. You’d left a note for your parents. That counted, right?

Just a thank you for letting you stay with them. That the fling with Zach was just something for fun–don’t take any anger out on him. A bit heavy-handed in the reading-between-the-lines portion for your mom with Eddie. Added a bit that you hoped Bri and Dylan have a great wedding. Left your gift for them on the kitchen table beside the note. Then you shoved another note inside your mom’s computer. Vague, still, just in case. 

Please. Let him do this himself.

Then you took off to the airport. 

Jason called, but it went to voicemail as you checked in at the desk. Marissa called next, but you had to go through security. When you got out, you had one voicemail from Marissa, a text from Jason, and a text from Zach. He'd been the only one you'd reached out to during the drive back to your parents' house.

A thanks. An apology. A return of his five dollars.

Zach: Ha. Thanks. Don’t worry about it. It was worth it to help you and Jason out.

Marissa's voicemail was a little hard to make out as she passed through a dead zone. Lots of choppiness, but it had the same two words that Jason's single two-worded text had.

Jason: Thank you.

You sank back in the seat, ignoring the few curious looks your way since you hadn't bothered to change. If you'd managed to stall your mom telling your dad even just a little bit, it'd helped. Besides, the blow-up being about you sleeping with Zach was a hell of a lot better than Bri finding out Jason was leaving. 

A romance scandal was better than that.

Probably.

Either way, it was Jason’s decision to spill the beans when he wanted to.

That’s what mattered.

You stared up out the window and watched the sky. Watched the planes. Found comfort that, at least, you'd be home soon. Found comfort in ignoring the hole in your stomach. You were missing your sister's wedding. Zach was missing it, too.

Maybe.

He was a groomsman. It was entirely possible that he’d change Bri’s mind about that half of her choice. 

You sniffled and found your reflection in the window. Blinked at the smudged mascara and the wrinkles in your dress. At the glittery necklace lopsided over top and the heels you really should’ve changed out of before packing.

At least you’d be home soon.

Then you could just take Eddie’s advice and put this all behind you.

Your phone buzzed as you boarded the plane. A phone call you couldn’t take. A phone call you wouldn’t have taken even if you hadn’t been plopping into your seat. You silenced the call as you got situated, trying not to think about those two stupid emojis burned into your screen as you did your seat belt and sat back, waiting.

Your phone buzzed again.

Just once.

Eddie: Should I ask what the fuck was that?

You contemplated not responding, but your thumbs moved otherwise.

You: Long story. Talk to Jason. I can’t really talk right now.

There was a few minutes' pause before your phone buzzed again.

Eddie: Where are you?

No way he knew. No way he guessed it. Unless he'd actually texted Jason, assuming you were with him. Or assuming you'd gone home. But last time you'd had the option to go home or go elsewhere…you'd gone elsewhere.

Shit.

You: Plane. My flight takes off soon. 

You: Gotta turn my phone off now. Sorry about the show earlier. With Zach. Your performance was really good. 

You took a deep breath. There was no point in being cryptic just because you felt on the verge of crying and being far too drained to really feel anything. That was just mean to Eddie.

You: Text when I land. Talk later?

You didn’t have to turn your phone on airplane mode this soon, but…you didn’t have it in you to text anyone right now. Let alone dealing with the hollow feeling in your stomach that was Eddie. Besides, what good would it do? To rehash everything over text and to tell him what Marissa said…you were on a plane just two days early. You’d be sitting here regardless.

Eddie: Okay.

You closed your eyes and pressed back. The weight of the night and the last few weeks felt like a ton of bricks. 

Your phone buzzed again.

Eddie: Fly safe.

Damn it. That just made it worse.

You plugged in some headphones and just closed your eyes again. 

You'd be back home in no time. 

*

You kept your phone pocketed once you sent your two landed messages. One to Eddie. One to the very woman waiting for you to get your baggage from the baggage claim. Parked outside with a handful of other cars, Paige was out of the driver’s seat and rushing toward you before you even stepped out of the airport doors.

You didn’t start crying until she hugged you.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

“I’m so tired,” you muttered into her shoulder. She was in her pajamas already. “I’m sorry for dragging you out of bed for this.”

“Nope, no apology necessary.” She pushed back and hauled your suitcase into her grip. “Let’s go. Let’s get you home.”

You recounted the evening as best as you could on the drive back. Paige listened. Paige reacted. As expected, too. If there was ever someone to seek validation from, Paige always had your back. Unless you were a serious fool–she wouldn't pull her punches if need be. But she was absurdly good at lending a listening ear.

“So, we’re sending Zach some flowers?” she said playfully. She was also always good at trying to lighten the tone. “And Jason and Marissa?”

“Yeah.” You watched the city come into view through the window. Her apartment wasn’t far from yours, but you knew the extra bag in the back wasn’t her last-minute trip bag. “Maybe Bri, too. For ruining the rehearsal dinner.” 

“She’ll figure it out eventually. All of this,” Paige said softly. “Once Jason and Marissa leave. She’ll connect the dots if someone doesn’t outright tell her.”

“It’s fine. Bri’s already pissed at the both of us. It is what it is.”

Paige stopped at a red light and turned to you. Concern drew across her face. A hard poke made you really look at her.

“What?”

"Don't pretend like you don't care. This is eating you alive from the inside; I can see it.” 

“I can’t rectify it until after Jason tells our parents. So, there’s not really anything I can do right now.” You shrugged, feeling your phone vibrate in your pocket. You found a text from Eddie.

Eddie: Call later?

"All I can really do is try to move forward from it," you muttered, typing out a response to Eddie. "Eddie was right about one thing–I just have to put it behind me."

You: Tomorrow? Going straight to bed. Just wanna put this all behind me.

You: I’m sorry for dragging you into it. 

You didn’t get a response as Paige pulled into your apartment complex. Nor when you both climbed out of the car and trudged upstairs. There wasn’t a single notification on the screen when you tossed your phone on your nightstand and went to shower. Paige dealt with your suitcase for you and threw some pajamas at you through the door. 

“So,” she said as you came out and flopped onto the bed beside her. “I have a whole day planned for tomorrow. I have two options, wanna hear them?”

You lifted your head from your pillow and grunted. 

You wanted to sleep and pretend you hadn't gone to Hawkins the last few months. To go back in time and talk yourself out of going until the day before. No fucking things up with Eddie, no fucking things up with Bri and Dylan, and no big blow-up at the rehearsal dinner. Just awkward tension, some side comments, and maybe sharing a dance with Zach while you were there. 

Mentally, you tacked down a note to call him tomorrow. You’d left everything to Jason and Marissa, but you owed him an actual apology and full explanation. Especially since you’d just dipped and left. Wow. Did the very thing you were trying to avoid doing with Eddie had you guys gotten caught.

What a fantastic person you were.

You groaned into your pillow halfway through one of the options Paige was explaining. 

“Alright, that’s a no on going out to see my family. Got it.”

“No, no. Not you–sorry.” You poked your head. “Stuff in here.”

Paige sank down and threw an arm around you. 

“Wanna just try and sleep?” 

You were starting to really understand your resemblance to Jason as you grunted in agreement. It even sounded like him.

“Okay, let’s sleep.” Paige kissed the top of your head. “We’ll figure out anything we need to tomorrow.”

“Thank you again,” you mumbled into your pillow. “For all of this.”

“Thank you for letting me raid your closet,” Paige mused with a bit of laughter.

You forced yourself to close your eyes and reach out for sleep. Forced and forced and desperately forced. The sooner the next day came, the sooner you’d be to putting tonight behind you. The sooner you’d be toward tomorrow ending, then you wouldn't have to continually think about the wedding you were missing. The sister you'd just blown up the last bit of your relationship with. 

Wouldn’t think about if your mom told your dad about Jason. About Eddie.

That Wayne wouldn’t get fucked over if she did. 

That tomorrow would go off fine and there wouldn’t be a single thing wrong now that you’d covered for Jason. Now that you weren’t there.

You rolled over and hugged Paige closer.

Tomorrow meant you wouldn’t be thinking about how badly, even now, you still wanted to roll over and hug Eddie.

That bastard.

Marissa was more on the money than you wanted to lend credit to.

Unfortunately.

[alyssiamarierenee]

no matter how terrible my day is. i can always end my day in bed imagining fictional characters making out sloppy style and fucking raw. and that's beautiful. there's some good in this world mister frodo and it's worth fighting for

[alyssiamarierenee]

she looked at my pussy like it was a bag of rice. ans her penis was a wet cell phone

[alyssiamarierenee]

i hate when girls feel dumb for trying to see the best in people and then end up hurt or disappointed like no!! it’s those people that were dumb for misleading you. they took advantage of your kindness and generosity, and they’ll rot for it 

[alyssiamarierenee]

Sebastian Stan can be in as many mid Golden Globes bait projects as he wants but he sold his soul to marvel in 2010 in an attempt to rescue himself from gay-for-pay tv show hell. The monkeys paw curled. now he could even win an Oscar playing Donald Trump but he will forever be known best for 164,000 works on ao3

[alyssiamarierenee]

[alyssiamarierenee]

I understand some of you are 19 but that is not an old man, he's 32.

[alyssiamarierenee]

waters so amazing because you can drink it really sloppy style and like spill it all over yourself and it doesnt even leave a stain. you dont even have to wash it out/ . because its already washed

[alyssiamarierenee]